


In the Palm of Her Hand

by Aussi18



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Storybrooke, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, POV Robin Hood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 18:31:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 44,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aussi18/pseuds/Aussi18
Summary: Outlaw Queen - AU Storybrooke with multiple liberties taken - PLEASE read the story notes to avoid confusion.Things are going great for Robin and Regina, until Marian shows up in Storybrooke. Will Robin be able to rebuild his relationship with the queen in the aftermath of his decisions?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ!
> 
> This starts LOOSELY canon at the end of 3x22 and beginning of 4x01 - where Emma brings Marian back from the Enchanted Forest, then it goes completely non-canon. I use bits and pieces of canon things from that point forward, but they are all twisted to whatever I wanted. Please heed this warning and note that I’m not attempting to explain things that may have been happening in the show at this point in time, because that’s not at all what this story is about. So please, please remember that I’m calling this AU even though you’re going to see a lot of familiar material.
> 
> Notable non-canon points:  
> -Snow Queen does not feed Marian cursed ice cream  
> -No spell of shattered sight  
> -Defeat of Snow Queen will not be expanded upon  
> -No mention of the storybook or the author
> 
> As with all of my stories - Robin and Regina will use some vulgar language and are definitely going to do sexy, dirty things to each other - if that's not your thing, turn back now.
> 
> Huge shout out to the wonderful, fantastic, and supportive ariestess for the beta work. This fic would not be nearly what it is without her hard work and I truly cannot express how grateful I am.

 

 

_Optional Mood Setting Playlist:_

**Chapter One - The Return**

  * Katy Perry - Wide Awake
  * Ingrid Michaelson - Keep Breathing
  * Adele - Hello



**Chapter Two - The Cold**

  * Lady Gaga - Always Remember Us This Way
  * Adele - Someone Like You
  * Katy Perry - Thinking Of You
  * Taylor Swift - All You Had To Do Was Stay



**Chapter Three - The Pain**

  * Ben Folds Five - Brick
  * Forest Blakk - Love Me
  * Sia - Elastic Heart (Piano Version)
  * The Verve Pipe - The Freshmen



**Chapter Four - The Vault**

  * Part One:
  * Ingrid Michaelson - The Chain
  * Adele - When We Were Young
  * Part Two:
  * Hozier - Take Me To Church
  * The Chainsmokers [Feat. Halsey] - Closer
  * Niykee Heaton - Bad Intentions
  * Part Three -
  * Idina Menzel - Everybody Knows
  * Celine Dion - If You Asked Me To
  * The xx - On Hold



**Chapter Five - The Goodbye**

  * Part One:
  * Lady Gaga - Dope
  * Taylor Swift - Wildest Dreams
  * Part Two:
  * The Airborne Toxic Event - Sometime Around Midnight
  * Florence and the Machine - Heavy In Your Arms



**Chapter Six - The Misunderstanding**

  * Tove Lo - Habits (Stay High)
  * The xx - Lips
  * Halsey - Hold Me Down



**Chapter Seven - The Routine**

  * Gotye [Feat. Kimbra] - Somebody That I Used To Know
  * Sarah McLachlan - Stupid
  * Mariah Carey - We Belong Together



**Chapter Eight - The Chance**

  * Lady Gaga - Is That Alright?
  * Adele - One And Only
  * Sia - Fire Meet Gasoline



**Chapter Nine - Monday**

  * Adele - I’ll Be Waiting



**Chapter Ten - Tuesday**

  * Nick Jonas [Feat. Tove Lo] - Close



**Chapter Eleven - Wednesday**

  * The Chainsmokers [Feat. ROZES] - Roses



**Chapter Twelve - Thursday**

  * Taylor Swift - I Know Places
  * Demi Lovato - Sorry Not Sorry



**Chapter Thirteen - Friday**

  * Part One:
  * Ingrid Michaelson - Can’t Help Falling in Love
  * Sara Bareilles - Gravity
  * Part Two:
  * Meg Myers - Desire
  * Thirty Seconds to Mars - Dangerous Night
  * Parts Three & Four:
  * Wanted - Hunter Hayes
  * Lady Gaga - The Cure



**Chapter Fourteen - The 1st**

  * Ed Sheeran - Fall
  * Sarah McLachlan - Sweet Surrender
  * Taylor Swift - Dress
  * The xx - I Dare You



**Chapter Fifteen - The Gift**

  * Zedd (Zedd Union Mix) [Feat. Foxes] - Clarity
  * Ed Sheeran - Dive
  * Sia - Eye of the Needle



**Chapter Sixteen - The Epilogue**

  * LANY - Ilysb
  * Taylor Swift - How You Get The Girl




	2. The Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katy Perry - Wide Awake  
> Ingrid Michaelson - Keep Breathing  
> Adele - Hello

 

 

Chapter One - The Return 

  


As they walk up to the diner he can’t resist, he needs to kiss her one more time before he has to share her company all evening. He tugs lightly on Regina’s gloved hand and it swings her to him, a little look of surprise on her pretty face as he steps in and presses his lips firmly to hers. She’s beautiful. _So_ beautiful. That she chooses to spend time with him over all others is completely beyond his comprehension. He has no idea why he’s so lucky but he’s damn glad he lost the bet that earned him his tattoo.

Her lips are soft, full, and warm against his, and she always goes all in, always gives him these perfect, deep kisses regardless of where they are and he loves that - loves how she responds so enthusiastically to him. He slides his tongue into her open mouth, stroking it along hers in that way she likes and she moans against him, her leather covered fingers gripping his jacket at the elbows as she tugs him a little closer.

They part after a few smaller, softer kisses and turn back toward the diner, and everything is perfect. Perfect, and whole, and good.

 

And then suddenly it isn’t.

 

Suddenly his wife - his _dead_ wife - is no longer dead, and his son is throwing a tantrum, and Regina is out the front door of the diner, and he has no bloody clue what he’s supposed to do first.

So he stops, takes a deep breath and tends to his son, picks him up as the boy shrinks away from his mother in what looks like fear as she reaches for him. Roland is sobbing as Robin tucks him against his chest, and he’s asking for Regina - is begging for her - and Marian, _Marian_ , is staring at him like he’s crazy as Snow White tries to tell her that the Evil Queen is no longer Evil.

 

The whole thing is a fucking mess.

 

He carries Roland outside in search of Regina, hopes she hasn’t gotten far - he doesn’t like the way she bolted, thought he saw terror flicker in her eyes the second he said Marian’s name. And he cannot lose Regina. He _cannot_. He knows it's fast, but he loves her so, so much.

She’s still in the little yard of the diner, standing almost exactly where he kissed her not ten minutes ago, and she’s speaking heatedly with Emma Swan. He overhears her say - _Just like your mother, never thinking of consequences_ \- her eyes are dark and wet looking in the streetlights and it kills him - sends a jolt of guilt through him that she is so obviously suffering as a result of this insane situation.

Roland kicks, struggles to be put down, and Robin automatically obliges - he’s not paying attention and he should be, he knows, he knows - but he can’t tear his eyes from the tortured look on Regina’s face. Roland runs to her, throws his arms around her legs as he slams against her, and she reaches down immediately, picks him up and settles him against her, stroking his dark curls and rubbing soothing circles against his back as she calms him. She whispers softly to him, swaying back and forth as she glares at Emma, and Robin’s heart throbs for her as he watches her love on his son even as she falls apart. He starts toward them but suddenly Marian’s hand is on his arm, pulling him back, pulling him to _her_ as she screams at him - _how could he let Roland anywhere near that monster???_

If he’s being honest, and if he wasn’t so dumbstruck with the situation, he kind of wants to shake Marian. Robin is nothing if not fiercely protective of Regina - knows he is the only one in this bloody town that believes in her, knows that she is working so hard to be good, and it grates against his being that Marian, _his_ Marian, is being so unreasonable. _Christ_.

He scrubs his hands over his face, forcefully tells Marian to “Calm-the-bloody-hell-down,” and turns to see Regina rub the tip of her nose against Roland’s as she sets him on his feet. She kisses his cheek and then without a second glance, without looking at anyone else, she heads off down the sidewalk and into the night.

And all Robin can think is _No._

_No-no-no-no-no._

Roland tugs his hand and it snaps his gaze down to his son’s flushed little cheeks, and he suddenly feels the same, feels like he could cry, could _sob_ with the confused emotions surging through him. He wishes Regina could comfort him the same way she has just done with Roland. And he knows that’s so, so selfish - he should be comforting her - but he hasn’t the faintest idea of just what the fuck is going on right now.

Marian grasps his hand suddenly, pulling him into her, and he goes, he hugs her back because _Christ_ , this is _Marian_ and he thought she was dead. Has mourned for so long and suddenly she’s in his arms again.

But it feels… wrong.

She’s the wrong height. Her curves don’t fit against him correctly. She smells strange.

 

She’s not Regina.

 

Emma and David both start spouting some nonsense about what a threat Regina may be now that this has happened, and he can’t stop it, the protective rage in him boils up and he snaps angrily at them to _Shut up and have some bloody faith in the woman who has saved their arses ten times over_. Marian drops his hand and the Charming crew looks shocked by his tone but he doesn’t care. He has to figure out what to do. What in the hell is he supposed to do?

He turns and sees Henry standing on the step, and he can’t help it, he’s so frustrated by the entire situation and he can’t stand to see Regina go home to that big empty house, so he snaps at the boy, “Think you could lend your mum some support for once?”

Henry looks shocked and Robin immediately regrets his comment, he’s just a child, he knows, but he’s tired of the boy being disrespectful, of the Charmings and their hypocritical double standards about everything. Snow starts to defend Henry but Robin rolls his eyes and guides Marian back inside the diner. Regina _needs_ someone tonight and Robin knows the only person she’s going to let anywhere near her is Henry. Time to buck up, son.

To his credit, the boy suddenly nods and asks Emma (of all people) to give him a ride to the mansion. Robin figures it’s better than nothing but can’t help the scowl that crosses his face as he thinks about Regina having to see Emma again tonight. He hopes for both their sake that the blonde has the sense to drop the boy off and stay in the damned car.

 

 

* * *

  


 

It is the most trying night of his life.

He walks slowly back to the forest camp alongside Marian, and it’s the strangest feeling he’s ever had. Roland will have nothing to do with Marian, so Robin is carrying him as they walk, and his son has nodded off against his shoulder. Marian tells him of her experience, how she came to be in Storybrooke, how the Evil Queen was going to murder her, and Robin tries to be understanding. He really, really, tries. But it’s so weird.

He settles Roland in his tent and then he stays up most of the night with Marian, catching her up on their life, sans any details of their recent time spent with Regina. He tries to convince Marian that Regina isn’t at all like the woman she remembers, but Marian remains obstinately appalled to learn that Robin is involved with her. She is angry, furious with him for allowing Roland to spend time with _that vile, evil woman_ , and the insult against Regina burns in Robin’s chest as he bites his tongue and _tries_ to be understanding.

Then Marian reminds him of his vows to her.

Robin feels as if he’s been slapped. Of course he remembers his marital vows. _Of course_ he does. _He does_.

 

But she was dead.

 

And he’s finally, _finally_ moved on.

Now that Marian is alive Robin’s head is so confused. His heart screams at him, screams Regina’s name but he can’t listen to his heart right now. He has lived his entire life by a code, to be truthful, righteous, and good, but _fuck_ \- how is he supposed to tell his _wife_ to bugger off so he can pursue his new relationship with Regina?

 

That doesn’t seem “righteous”. It doesn’t seem “good”.

 

He knows the choice he must make, knows that he must abide by the vows that he took. He reassures Marian of this, tells her of his intentions to end things with Regina, and she smiles as she hugs him, as she presses her lips to his. He forces himself to hug her, to make the motion to chastely kiss her back, and he hates it. Hates himself.

 

Because it doesn’t _feel_ right, and it doesn’t _feel_ good.

  


 

* * *

 

 

 

The next day he goes to see Regina and he can do nothing but apologize as she talks down about herself, as she doubts everything she has worked so hard for lately, and he can’t _not_ tell her that his feelings for her are real. It’s cruel, it’s so, so cruel of him to give her this hope, but he can’t stand the despair in her eyes, can’t stand her thinking that she isn't good enough.

 

To him, she is perfect.

 

She is beautiful inside and out, she radiates goodness and love right from her soul, and he wants her to know that, to see what he sees in her. But then he cocks it all up again as he rips the hope away and tells her he must honor his vows. Her voice drops and her eyes grow red and despondent and he can’t - he can’t stay to see her break when he can’t hold her, when he can’t make it better - _when he is the one doing the breaking_ \- so he flees like the coward he is.

As he bolts - as he strides down the street damn near running with his frustration - he can’t stop the thought from forming -

 

Now it is he who is the monster.

 

 


	3. The Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady Gaga - Always Remember Us This Way  
> Adele - Someone Like You  
> Katy Perry - Thinking Of You  
> Taylor Swift - All You Had To Do Was Stay

 

 

Chapter Two - The Cold 

  


He hasn’t seen Regina in days.

No one has.

He’s terrified for her. Angry with himself. Outrageously frustrated with the situation he is in, and can think of nothing to remedy it.

 

Is it wrong to wish that his wife had stayed dead?

 

He can remember a time that he would have walked through hell to be with Marian. Would have stolen every ounce of gold in the realm to hold her in his arms once more. But her touch does nothing to him now, like the passing graze of a stranger. It is cold, unfamiliar, and the more he tries the worse it seems to feel. She makes several attempts at intimacy with him, and he knows he’s supposed to want her, should want to spend every minute making love to her, but he can’t. Her kisses and soft touches make him feel dirty, wrong, and he can’t get even a little hard for her, so he stops trying, starts avoiding her touch entirely.

He feels like he’s in hell _now_ \- every minute that passes without knowing how Regina is, what she is doing and thinking, knowing she is hurting because he has broken her heart - _this_ is hell.

Roland still wants nothing to do with Marian - will not go to her, will not let her hold him or touch him in any way. And Robin completely understands. The boy has been told she is dead, has bonded with another woman who loves him so very much, and suddenly everything Roland knows has been turned upside down. He doesn’t blame his son at all, and he doesn’t push him in spite of Marian’s pleading tone. His son will bond with her in his own time, Robin cannot find the will, nor the reason, to rush the lad.

  


 

* * *

 

  


There is a strange feeling in the forest this morning as he and John grill sausages over the fire. A chill is in the air and the frost a bit too crisp to be natural. The threat of the Snow Queen has Robin’s hackles up, has him feeling extra jumpy in addition to the tension that has settled over him since Marian’s return.

Suddenly Emma, David, and the pirate appear through the thick trees, and then there’s a giant snow monster-thing trying to kill them all. Emma tries to use magic but only manages to irritate it more as it blows frigid air across the group and knocks them down. Marian is yelling as Roland steps out of the tent, directly into the monster’s path, and Robin fires an arrow at the beast, knowing it will not kill it but hoping to draw its ire. It doesn’t change course - goes straight for Roland - and Marian is two feet from their son, but makes absolutely no move to protect him. Robin is half up, scrambling as fast as he can, screaming and firing arrows as he goes, and Marian just fucking _stands there_ doing nothing as the monster reaches for their son.

Just as the beast would grasp Roland, there is a swirl of purple smoke and Regina appears in his place, his son tucked tightly behind her. By mistake, the monster ends up grabbing her and in anger, it starts swinging her around wildly in its icy grip. Robin fires three arrows at once, cleaving the hand clean off the beast and Regina drops from ten feet up, but at least she is free of the monster. Smoke swirls again, she reappears behind it, and then it explodes into a cloud of snowflakes as she fireballs it into oblivion.

Robin rushes over to Roland and he is fine - completely safe thanks to Regina - and she is already kneeling next to him, hugging the boy to her and telling him he’s okay as she brushes his curls off his forehead.

Robin’s heart aches for her touch.

He drops down beside Regina, ignoring Marian as she calls to him - asks him hotly, “What is _she_ doing here?” Regina’s left hand raises to stroke across Roland’s cheek and Robin intercepts her, snatches her arm and brings her hand to him for inspection.

She has frostbite where the monster grabbed her. Deep frostbite. The skin is blotchy with white and dark blue coloration, and he’s seen this before - knows she needs immediate attention if she wants to save the hand.

“Christ, Regina, this is - we need to get you to a healer,” he says urgently, cradling her hand to him, careful not to touch the ruined skin. Her eyes meet his, are hot against him, and the pain is so near the surface he can feel the force of their broken hearts slamming against each other as she looks into his eyes.

But then she pulls away, drags herself to her feet, and steps back to straighten her gray skirt and jacket. “I’m fine,” she says quietly, and Robin starts to protest, reaches for her again but she swirls away in a poof of smoke and he’s left with his mouth half open, his fear and love for her showing blatantly on his sleeve.

 

 

* * *

  
  


A week goes by and Robin is literally sick with worry. He can’t sleep, for he dreams of Regina’s demise, of horrible ways she might die in front of him while he holds hands with Marian and watches the life slip from her. He can’t eat - can’t taste the food and it feels disgusting against his tongue so that when he finally does force himself to swallow, he throws it up almost immediately.

He’s been to city hall, the diner, her vault, has lurked outside her house like a stalker on multiple occasions. Whenever he sees her she just looks _wrong_ \- pale and hunched, her movements slow and careful. He suspects she has not had her hand tended to, but can’t tell due to the cold weather and her apparent new affinity for mittens.

He knows it’s wrong but he does it anyway - he breaks into the hospital and searches her medical record to see if she sought treatment for the frostbite and finds no documentation of it. He supposes she could have healed it herself, but there is this awful, irritating feeling that tells him she didn’t - she _won’t_.

She is never alone; Henry is by her side almost exclusively these days, and whenever the boy sees Robin, he shoots him a terrible, hateful glare. Robin doesn’t mind - knows he deserves it, knows he is the reason for what is slowly crippling their queen, and he feels completely helpless.

Roland cries for her daily, sometimes multiple times a day, and it’s killing him to see his son’s despair match his own at the loss of her. In spite of Marian’s protests, it feels exceedingly cruel to keep Roland from seeing Regina. So by the week’s end Robin finally breaks, blows caution to the wind and takes Roland up to the big white house to visit her. He needs to see her, too. Needs to see her without gloves on just to be sure she’s taking care of herself, that she isn’t letting the wound turn to gangrene, that she isn’t letting it kill her.

He feels like his life is crumbling to pieces, and he can’t bear the thought of her feeling the same way.

Henry answers the door and Robin can see that he immediately considers slamming it in his face, but then Roland calls out to him, his _almost_ big brother, and he leaves the door cracked as he greets the little boy.

“Please, Henry,” Robin says softly, “Roland needs to see her, he misses her so, so badly.”

Henry’s hardened gaze softens at Robin’s honesty, but he says simply, “She’s asleep.”

“We won’t take long,” Robin says, brow furrowing. It’s the middle of the afternoon - she shouldn’t be sleeping, not if she is healthy. “Please, Henry,” he pleads, hoping the boy will cave, will follow the soft, sappy bloodline that is _Snow White_ and take mercy on them.

“Okay,” he concedes, but sounds concerned as he continues, “But not too long, she has a cold and she needs to rest.”

“I promise, not too long,” Robin agrees as they step over the threshold. He has every intention of staying as long as it takes to be sure Regina is okay.

 

Robin doesn’t know where her bedroom is, hasn’t spent much time in the big house, outside of her home office and the living room area. Henry leads the way and knocks softly on the white double door to her room, and after a minute or so, a soft rasping, “Yes, baby?” comes to greet them.

Robin’s heart slams against his chest. He knows just by the sound of her voice, _knows_ what she has done.

Roland loses patience and pushes past Henry into the room, crying out to Regina as he climbs quickly up onto her large bed and stretches his little body out tightly against hers.

It’s dark in the room and she’s burrowed into her heavy, thick, white blankets but Robin can see from the doorway that she is pale and clammy looking. He steps back into the hall.

“Aren’t you going in?” Henry asks, confused.

Robin clears his throat, feeling like he might be sick. “How’ve you been doing around here?” he asks quickly, changing the subject, “Why don’t I help you get caught up on chores and we’ll let Roland spend some one-on-one time with your mum?”

The distraction works - Henry looks completely relieved as he leads Robin downstairs to the kitchen, which is an absolute disaster zone.

Robin raises his brows to the boy, but Henry shrugs, looks at him accusingly and breaks his heart as he says, “She won’t eat. I’ve tried everything.”

Wetness burns in Robin’s eyes and he grinds his teeth harshly, fists clenching as he presses them to his forehead, and he hates himself for what he has done to her. Hates that her heart was so fragile and he _knew it_ \- he fucking _knew it_ but still he broke her - he _chose_ to break her - he chose _Marian_.

 

He does not feel righteous. He does not feel good.

 

He works quickly alongside Henry and they clear away the mess and rubbish within the hour, returning the kitchen to the spotless perfection Regina always keeps it at. Then he turns to Henry.

“I’m going to fix this,” he says softly, seriously.

Henry looks at him expectantly and asks, “How?” 

“I’m -” Robin starts and stops. He’s not sure how he’s going to fix it. He just knows he _has_ to fix it. _Has to_. There is no other option. He has to mend her heart that he so carelessly broke when he made his terrible decision.

 

Because he chose _wrong_.

 

The pain she has subjected herself to is only part of what drives him to this decision. It’s the misery Roland is in, the misery Henry is in, the misery he himself is in - it is their collective despair that has shown him clearly that he is a complete fucking idiot. He never in his life thought he’d be thinking this, but his vows can be damned, because he _had_ honored them _‘til death do us part,_ and just because she came back from the fucking dead does not mean he hasn’t fulfilled his duty as a husband. Doesn’t mean he is indebted to her. He doesn’t even _know_ Marian anymore, and Roland has made it apparent that he doesn’t know her either.

Robin locks eyes with Henry, who is studying his face carefully. “I’m going to get on my knees and beg her forgiveness, because I’m to blame for this. This is my fault,” he confesses.

Henry cocks his head at Robin, scrunches his nose up in a gesture that is so _Regina_ it causes Robin’s heart to stutter as he says, “No, it’s not. It’s Emma’s.”

Robin is shocked, has never heard Henry _not_ take Emma’s side of something. It’s a little refreshing, to be honest.

“Mom was right,” he continues, “Emma didn’t think about the consequences of bringing Marian back with her. And you had to try, right? I mean, she’s your wife.”

“No,” Robin corrects softly, “I should have been smart enough to choose your mum the first time - every time. I should have chosen her immediately and I’m a damned fool for doing otherwise.” He feels sick again. Hindsight is so clear in this moment it is unbearable.

Henry nods solemnly, says, “Yeah, you should have,” and furrows his brow. “Want me to take Roland for ice cream?” he volunteers, and Robin can’t hold back, he grabs the boy by the shoulders and pulls him into a tight hug. He’s such a thoughtful lad.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” he squeaks out, and Robin releases him, pats his shoulder softly.

“Knowing your mum’s temper, how about ice cream _and_ a film?” he bargains as he slides two twenties into the boy’s palm.

Henry laughs a little and his eyes light up at the money as the boy gushes about some movie that he thinks is perfect for Roland, and the next thing he knows Robin is buttoning both boys into their coats and sliding hats down to their ears as they dress to make the short walk to the theater.

When the front door is closed, an immense feeling of dread washes over Robin. It’s going to be bad. He knows it’s going to be. She may not even accept his help, his apology, and she has every right to reject him. But she needs to be healthy for Henry, for Roland even, and he won’t quit until he convinces her of it.

 

 


	4. The Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben Folds Five - Brick  
> Forest Blakk - Love Me  
> Sia - Elastic Heart (Piano Version)  
> The Verve Pipe - The Freshmen

 

 

Chapter Three - The Pain 

  


Robin ascends the large staircase silently and makes his way down the long hallway to Regina’s room. He takes a deep breath before he enters, not bothering to knock as he knows she is aware he is in her house, just as he is aware that her hand is a mess.

The room is still dark, curtains drawn, and there is a television playing on one wall, the sound turned way down as the bright colors of a cartoon flash across the screen - she must have allowed Roland to choose while he snuggled with her.

He’d taken his shoes off at the front door and he pads quietly across her bedroom in his socks, not sure if she is awake or not. Her eyes are closed, she is deep in the covers and curled up on her right side as her left hand rests lightly on top of the blankets.

 

He blinks.

 

It looks… perfect.

No wound of any kind to behold.

 

He can’t smell infection in the air, and he doesn’t see any evidence of bandages or medication for the injury that he was so sure she was _not_ nursing. But he still _feels_ it, like a sixth sense, he _feels_ like she has let the marred flesh fester even though he cannot see it for himself.

He stands next to the bed on the far side from her and unzips and shucks his hoodie, his jeans, and slides under the covers next to her in his t-shirt and boxer briefs before he can think about what he’s doing or what her reaction will be. He’s a complete selfish prick, he knows, but he has to hold her right now - it feels like forever since he last touched her. He will worry about her anger, about the inappropriateness of his actions later, when the bleeding of his hemorrhaging heart has slowed enough that he can breathe again.

He slides across the bed to her, spooning up against her back as he presses the length of his body against hers, his chest to her back, and she sighs deeply, leans back into him. She’s asleep, he realizes, and he is so lucky for that because she is soft and amenable in his arms for a few moments as he buries his face in her hair, sucks in the scent of her apple shampoo, then drops his lips to the side of her neck and kisses her there.

He’s a bastard to touch her like this and he knows it, but he’s addicted to her, is helplessly in love with her. He runs his hand down her arm from her shoulder to elbow, relishing in the feel of her warm skin, and she makes this sweet _mmmm_ noise in her throat as she whispers his name, and he drops another kiss to her neck. Christ, she’s perfect. So fucking wonderful. She makes him feel whole, alive, and happy inside.

He strokes across her forearm to her hand, wanting to tangle his fingers with hers as he prepares his speech, prepares to grovel for his stupidity. He softly glides his fingertips across the top of hers, then jerks his hand back quickly.

His fingers are soaked in the yellowish-green, sticky fluid of infection.

“Fuck,” he says as he sits up quickly, and she hardly moves at all, rolls a little more onto her back with the dip of the mattress as he rises, pulling her hand up to his face.

It still looks perfect. Looks absolutely unblemished.

It’s fucking magic. Some kind of tosh spell to hide it from him. From Henry. From everyone.

“Regina, wake up,” he says roughly, staring harder at her hand as if that will break the spell.

She doesn’t wake.

“Regina,” he says again, louder, getting to his knees and rolling her onto her back so he can look at her face. She is so pale, her skin is more than warm - is hot to the touch - and there is perspiration at her hairline.

“Regina - Wake. Up.” he commands, fear evident in his shaking voice.

Her eyes open and she looks blearily up at him, her brow furrowed in annoyance as he tells her, “Take off the spell - let's have it.”

She squints at him and then drops her eyes to the side, lets them close again.

“Goddamnit,” he says angrily. She will not do this. She will not give up. He won’t allow it.

He slides his hands under her armpits, pulls her up into a sitting position as she groans in protest. He cups her face between his palms and repeats, “Let me help you, Regina - it’s not too late, darling, we can fix this.”

Her right hand waves a little and he lets her slide back to the bed so he can look at her hand.

 

_Fucking Christ._

 

It’s disgusting.

 

The frostbite has blistered awfully, covering her entire hand in seeping open sores, her skin angry red and black where it is grotesquely swollen, and ugly greenish fluid is leaking from areas where the skin has opened. He stares hard at it, and thinks the discoloration actually looks less bad than when he saw it last. There are no black streaks coming from the hand, nothing stemming up the arm, but without a doubt it is infected, and it has to hurt incredibly bad.

His heart hurts because she hurts. Because he has hurt her.

“Why?” he whispers, feeling completely awful - he has failed them all.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Thief,” she rasps sleepily, “I got help, I have medicine.” She flicks her right hand again and several items appear on her nightstand - orange bottles with little pills in them, antiseptic and bandages.

Robin shakes his head, not buying it. “Henry says you won’t eat?”

“The pain medicine makes me nauseous, makes me sleep,” she whispers, her eyes half closed. “When Roland left I took some, didn’t think you’d come,” she mumbles, eyelids drooping further.

He hates himself. Hates everything about the situation he has been thrust into and has continued to fuck up. She should know without a doubt that he would be here, that he would take care of her. But he wasn’t here. Because he chose _wrong_. He’s not sure he’ll ever get over the regret.

“I’m here now, darling,” he says softly, stroking her hair out of her eyes as she settles deeper into the pillows. “I’m never going anywhere, ever again. I’m so, so sorry, Regina.”

Her eyes open and despite her drug induced drowsiness, she manages to look skeptical. “Robin,” she says, tilting her face more fully to his as she pats his hand softly with her good one. “You have to forget about me. Marian is alive, she’s in love with you, and she’s the mother of your son. Our children have to come first - go back and find a way to fall in love with her again.”

“I can’t,” he says brokenly, and he can’t stop the tears from welling in his eyes.

“You must,” she says quietly, firmly.

“But my heart belongs to someone else, I’m in love with someone else, Regina,” he blurts, his voice shaking with the emotion.

She stares at him a for a long moment, her dark eyes serious and focused, then there is a little hopeful smile on her lips as she asks, “You are?”

Robin nods vigorously, not trusting his voice.

“Do you trust me?” she asks, and he nods again.

“Then try - try to love your wife, try to put your family back together,” she says, and her hand slips from his as she falls asleep, the magic glamour shimmering back to life and returning her hand to normal-looking as Robin kneels next to her like an idiot, wondering how in the hell he is supposed to try to love another woman when his entire heart, his _soul_ so clearly belongs to this one.

He knows it’s wrong, knows he should get up, get dressed and go, but he has several hours to burn with the boys off to town and he can’t will himself to leave her. So he gives in to his heart, sinks back down into her bed and pulls her back up against his chest, scoots his body up tight behind hers and strokes her hair softly as she sighs and her breathing evens out.

 

  


* * *

 

  


He wakes and has no idea what time it is, doesn’t have a clue for how long he has been asleep. He’s on his side and Regina is snuggled up into his chest, her forehead tucked tightly against his collarbone, her bad hand tilted awkwardly up between them, and his arm is tight across her waist.

This is how he should spend every morning for the rest of his life. Should wake up with her in his arms, in love and in rapture.

“Hi,” she whispers, her breath hits his neck and sends gooseflesh across the skin.

“Hi,” he whispers back, and he wants to kiss her.

“You should go,” she says quietly, “this isn’t appropriate.” Her words tell him to go as her actions beg him to stay - she nuzzles her face against his throat, shifts her hips forward and slides one long, smooth leg between his.

He breathes out roughly, rubs his hand over her hip, pulls her tighter into him. “This is _true_ , this is _right_ ,” he argues softly as he drops a kiss to the top of her head.

“You’re married,” she whispers, and her voice breaks in the middle.

He’s suddenly so very tired of being reminded of his marriage vows and knows he’s a git for it. He’s hurting everyone and it feels like no matter what choice he makes, he’s going straight to hell for it.

“I’m sorry,” he says against her hair, and his eyes feel hot, wet, as he squeezes them closed and tucks into her harder. He holds her tightly to him for another minute, then catches himself, whispers, “Fuck, I’m sorry,” as he releases her, extricates himself from the bed and puts his jeans back on. He tucks his t-shirt in, zips his hoodie back up and scrubs his palms roughly against his burning eyes, sniffs in heavily through his nose. Everything he does is wrong.

“Me too,” she says quietly as he starts toward the bedroom door, and he can’t stand it - she has nothing - _nothing_ \- to be sorry for. This is his mess. He tells her as much.

She tilts her head at him as he stares at her from the doorway, and it feels like this is the last time he’s going to see her in this room, when it should be the first of many, many times. He grits his teeth and sniffs again, his face feels hot and congested.

“Promise me you’ll take care of that hand,” he says roughly, and she starts to make a face at him so he cuts her off. “For Henry, for Roland,” he grits out, and she purses her lips as she tells him again that she already got help for it. He nods, moves toward the hallway again but can’t resist, he has to be sure she will take care of it so he turns back and says, “That infection didn’t start overnight, Regina - you and I both know it. So promise me, yeah? For the boys.”

There is a long beat of silence as they stare at each other across the bedroom, and finally, _finally_ she nods to him, says, “I promise,” and then she curls back into the blankets and Robin heads miserably downstairs to wait for Roland to return.

 

 


	5. The Vault

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part One:  
> Ingrid Michaelson - The Chain  
> Adele - When We Were Young  
> Part Two:  
> Hozier - Take Me To Church  
> The Chainsmokers [Feat. Halsey] - Closer  
> Niykee Heaton - Bad Intentions  
> Part Three -  
> Idina Menzel - Everybody Knows  
> Celine Dion - If You Asked Me To  
> The xx - On Hold

 

 

Chapter Four - The Vault 

 

Robin tries.

For two, excruciating weeks, he tries so fucking hard to fall back in love with Marian. Because he trusts Regina. He does. And he will comply with her request, will do it with one hundred percent commitment because he trusts her so very much and wants to be able to tell her that he has done as she asked and has _tried_.

Roland, on the other hand, has different ideas.

With every passing day, his son withdraws more from Marian. The more she tries, the more Roland pulls away. He’s starting to throw bigger and bigger tantrums, and Robin caves, comforts him - Roland rarely threw fits before this, but it’s to the point now where Robin must remove him from her presence entirely in order to calm him.

He has no idea what to do about it.

He sees how it hurts Marian, but he can’t help remembering their incident with the snow monster and the way she _didn’t_ save Roland, and he can’t quite bring himself to defend her to his son. Things are strained between the three of them, to say the least.

Robin holds her hand, takes her to town and treats them to ice cream and other strange foods in this land that he knows are unfamiliar to her, and he supposes they look like a relatively normal family to the outside eye. The men at camp are welcoming of Marian and have taken to her return much easier than the Locksleys. But Robin can’t bring himself to touch her intimately, can’t kiss her, can’t even force himself to look at her body in a way that a man should look at his wife.

 

Because it all feels false.

 

It all feels wrong.

 

It’s very late in the evening but he goes to see Regina, has heard she is working on some curse to defeat the Snow Queen, and knowing that she is healthy _and_ alone - he is helpless to stop his feet from moving in the direction of her vault.

She reprimands him immediately upon seeing him, but he can’t help it - she is his closest friend, his most treasured confidant, and he misses her dearly. He tells her he has been trying like she asked, but he doesn’t know what to do anymore - the conflict between his head and his heart is killing him. He tells her how he has kissed Marian, how it feels empty because it is not _true_.

She breaks him, shakes him to his soul when she tells him to stay away, confides to him, “Seeing you here and hearing about your conflicted heart… is torture.” Her eyes are red and shiny and he wants to go to her, wants to hold her, kiss her until she smiles for him. But then she’s speaking again, telling him for the second time that he needs to forget about her and start thinking about his wife, commanding him to think of Roland and how this would all look to him.

His frustration bursts out of him as he argues with her again, asks her what the bloody hell he’s supposed to do, and then he can see that he’s hurting her more, hurting her so much every time he sees her, so he goes, exits the vault quickly and walks off into the dark cemetery, wishing he could strangle Emma Swan for the havoc she has brought into his life.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He lasts two hours.

Robin stalks around the forest angry, despondent and so very, very frustrated with everything that he can’t trust himself around anyone else right now. His heart feels raw, scraped open, like it’s bleeding into his chest, filling him up with thick clots that grow larger and larger so that he can’t breathe anymore.

 

So he gives up. Gives in. Goes back to her.

 

She’s reading, so pretty in her bright red dress as her brow furrows in concentration, and he wants to take a second to look at her, but she immediately notices his presence. She snaps at him as he enters, annoyance tangible in her voice as she quips about deja vu, but he ignores it, tells her about living every day by his godforsaken code, and she’s exasperated - her patience is worn thin as she asks him why he is here, and the next thing he knows he’s telling her, “‘Cause today is not one of those days,” and he’s kissing her like there is no tomorrow.

She’s completely still at first - stunned, he thinks - but then her hands find his arms, the book she was reading falls to the floor and she goes willingly when he pulls her up. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and kisses him back - _kisses-him-the-fuck-back._ He tilts his head the other direction and she copies him, comes back to his mouth with hers open, accepting, her tongue immediately tangling with his as his fingers tighten at the nape of her neck. Robin’s brain stops working and all he knows is the slide of her perfect lips against his.

He turns them, walks her back, back, until the back of her knees hit the chaise, but she has other ideas, slides her hands under his vest and pushes it down, off his shoulders. She unbuckles his dagger holsters - he lets them clatter to the floor - then she pulls at the material of his shirt, jerks it roughly up and off him.

He knows where this is going but he cannot resist her, is incapable of making any kind of argument when he wants her, _loves_ her so badly.

He kisses her lips hard, then goes for the smooth skin of her throat as her hands splay against his bare chest to trace the indents of his well defined muscles. Her touch is perfect, is intense as her fingers stroke his skin, and he wants that too - wants to run his hands across her naked body, so he works his way up her neck, licks and sucks hot kisses against the soft spot right below her ear, nips the corner of her jaw, then grabs her by her hips and spins her around.

He pulls her back tight to him, grinds his growing erection against her arse as his hands stroke up her thighs, her stomach, her full breasts, where he stops and squeezes as he drops kisses against the side of her neck and breathes in the perfume of her gorgeous hair.

 

This woman is pure, sinful perfection.

 

He leaves her breasts in search of the zip on her dress - he needs to feel her skin against his - and he finds it easily (thank god) and pulls it down quickly, revealing her to him inch by inch. He’s panting - his arousal and desire so strong for her that he feels like he’s on fire - and as he exposes more and more of her skin he’s close to hyperventilating with her beauty.

He pushes the dress off her shoulders, drags the lovely material down her arms and over her hips until it slides off the rest of the way and pools at her feet. She’s wearing bright red underneath too, matching lace on top and bottom, and _\- jesus-fuck - oh god - Christ save him -_ she’s in a thong with black thigh high stockings, and these stiletto boots - and - and - and all he can do is groan because - _Christ_ \- he could come so fast - could stare at her arse in that tiny scrap of lace and her long legs in those sheer stockings and come without ever once touching himself.

“ _Christ,_ Regina,” he growls against her shoulder, “You’ve been wearing _this_ all day?” he pants, rubs his erection against her roughly as he rasps, “Tell me you were wearing it for me.”

She shivers, turns her head back and kisses him, smirks as she says, “Luck favors the prepared.”

He moans, shoves his tongue in her mouth hotly then pulls back, bites the top of her shoulder, trying in vain to tamp down his desire.

She’s so brilliantly, outrageously, gorgeous - so far out of his league that he thinks he might be dreaming - no one’s skin is this creamy, no one’s curves this full, and while he’s made love to her before, once, _Christ_ , in this moment, he wants to _fuck_ her. He thinks he should feel bad about it, should probably be more gentle, given their circumstances, but _bloody hell_ \- he wants to fuck her so hard, his breath catches and his cock jumps with the thought.

He keeps her back to him, unbuckles his belt and opens his trousers.  He slides his hands over her hot skin, across her shoulder blades and down the long, smooth planes of her back from her bra to the top of her thong - his fingers play with the thin lacy waistband, brush along it and he pulls it back, lets it snap just a little against her skin as he continues south, and she gives him a quiet, breathy laugh. He smooths his hands down further, over the firm, round muscles of her perfect arse, and he’s going to need divine intervention to stop now.

He drops his mouth to her shoulder blade, sucks her skin into his mouth, laves his tongue against her as he says, “It’s a bloody crime _not_ to fuck you in this.”

She gives him that sexy, breathy laugh again and his chest fills with warmth - he loves when she laughs, when she smiles - and if she’ll let him, he’s going spend the rest of his life thinking up ways to make her do more of both every chance he gets.

He slides his hands across her toned, silky smooth stomach as he steps closer, starts dropping wet, open mouth kisses against her spine, shifts her hair with one hand and works his way across the nape of her neck, lets his teeth drag against her. He shifts forward, sucking hard against her neck, running his lips up to her ear as she tilts her head to give him better access, and when his eyes drop down the front of her to her plump tits, he moans. Her bra has pushed her breasts up and together, presenting them to him like a beautiful buffet and he wants to touch them, wants to suck on them, wants to knead them in his hands and tease her pretty little nipples into stiff peaks. He slides the straps of her bra down her shoulders so he can kiss her skin without interruption - she breaks out in gooseflesh and, when he unhooks her bra, she inhales a quick breath in her excitement. The action turns him on so much, he can’t stop from rubbing his cotton covered cock against the swell of her arse.

Regina pulls her bra down and off her arms, then reaches back to him, pulls his head down to her neck as she arches against him. She thrusts her chest out and her arse right against his groin, and she’s so hot he swears she’s going to burn him. He strokes his hands up to her naked tits and he fucking loves them, loves all of her, but Christ - these tits? They’re his undoing.

He rubs her nipples with his thumbs, bringing them to stiff, hard peaks, and she gives him these hot little needy sounds - moans and sighs and gasps - as he pinches and pulls and rolls them. He flicks her little nubs quickly, knows she likes this - knows by the way she shudders and bumps her arse back against him as she squirms and says _Oh god_. He likes it, too - likes the way she looks, feels in his hands - her full mounds fill his palms and the sight of her plump flesh in his hands as he squeezes and kneads her makes his cock twitch with arousal. He gets off on the fact that he’s creating pleasure for her, is finally making her feel _good_ \- he knows she’s getting wet - she’s soaking those tiny knickers and it gets him even hotter - just knowing she’s ready for him to slide up into her when they are ready.

 

Which apparently, is right-fucking-now.

 

She grabs his hand and moves forward, crawls onto the velvet chaise and tugs him in close behind her as she gets on all fours.

 

Ohhhh _fuck_ yes.

 

He pulls her thong down her legs and off - shoves it in his trouser pocket - steps back to kick his shoes and socks off, shucks his pants, and takes a deep, steadying breath as he steps back up to her, her bare arse perfectly on display for him.

She’s still wearing her boots and stockings, and he debates on whether he should remove them, should get her totally naked, but she turns her head, arches her back and commands roughly, “Robin - _now_ ,” so he rubs the head of his cock quickly through her slick folds and buries himself in her, sliding all the way in to the hilt.

She moans under him and spreads her knees a little, her head dropping down as he fills her, and she’s outrageously, obscenely wet for him. He slides in easily, but she’s tight, so tight around him, and he’s trying to give her a minute to adjust, but he can’t wait - he’s been dying for her touch for weeks and he moans with the way she shudders around him in her excitement. He pulls back slowly, gives her long, deep strokes as he fucks her from behind, palming the cheeks of her arse as he looks down and watches himself slide in and out of her.

“So wet, babe,” he gasps as he speeds up a little, squeezing her cheeks roughly. “Love fucking you like this, love the way your round arse looks in my hands when I bury my cock in you.”

Regina moans, _ahhhhhs,_ and throws her head back when he thrusts a little deeper, a little harder with his passion, and she agrees, tells him breathlessly, “Harder, Robin - make me shake.”

 

And Christ.

 

When she talks to him like that? _Fuck_.

 

He grabs her hips tightly, pulls almost all the way out so he can just see the head of his cock - and he just stares at them for a second, completely in awe that he’s here with Regina, that her creamy need is coating him as she asks him to fuck her, and it just feels so perfectly, completely _right_.

He surges forward, slides in deep and her breath rushes out as she moans loudly - but he’s already pulling back again and thrusting faster, is losing control quickly with the feel of her slick heat all around him. She feels incredible as he goes faster, harder, starts pounding into her, giving her deep strokes that have her arms bracing and her skin reddening as his pelvis smacks loudly against her gorgeous arse.

He fucks her with fast strokes, slides into her perfect, slick heat again, and again, and again. She’s moaning, arching as he stretches her, her hair curtaining her face and her breasts shimmying with his movements, and she’s so hot and wet and snug around him that he’s starting to worry, knows that if he keeps going this hard, he’s going to come. But he’s not ready yet, wants to fuck her through at least one orgasm, so he bends forward over her, switches to short, deep strokes as he reaches for her swaying breasts. Her nipples are hard as he palms her, pinches and twists her sensitive tips roughly and asks, “You like that big cock filling you up? Like it when I fuck you on your hands and knees, my queen?”

She makes this desperate, guttural _Ohh god, Robin_ in response, and it makes him so hot that his words affect her so much, makes him wonder how wet he could make her with just a few choice phrases, and he’s going to try it someday, going to whisper filthy things to her until she begs him to get her off.

 

But not today.

 

Today he’s so close already - he’s sweating with self-restraint as he leans back and starts giving her quick, punctuated thrusts that have her gasping, saying _oh-oh-oh_ and jerking her hips counter to him as his skin slaps against her. He’s getting close - too close - and is determined to make her come first, so he pulls out to get his shite together and she groans, protests loudly at the loss of him inside of her, begs him _No-no, please - don’t stop!_ and he cannot deny her. So he slides back in, bites the inside of his cheek viciously, drawing blood, tries to distract his throbbing cock as he drives into her _hard-hard-hard-hard-hard._ She suddenly drops to her forearms as she whimpers _Yes! Yes!_ her forehead pressing into the cushion below her as he pounds and pounds her slick, swollen sex. She takes and takes him, and then she cries out, her fingernails scratching into the chaise as her back arches and she braces back hard against him, taking the full, slamming jolt of his driving hips as she moans, her internal muscles contracting harshly as she finally comes apart.

Robin uses every single trick he’s ever learned to prevent himself from coming at the beautiful sight, and sound, and feel of her milking his thick length as she swivels her hips and clenches and shudders in her pleasure. It’s so difficult, she’s so gorgeous as she takes his thick cock, as she clenches and makes more slick fluid for him, flooding him with the hot wetness as he slows his strokes.

He stays in her as long as he can, and the second he feels her tremors subside he pulls out, confesses softly, “Need a minute, babe.” He strokes his hands across her delectable arse, makes her twitch toward him as he trails his thumbs down and spreads her slit, groans as he watches her hot slick fluid literally run from her and drip onto the chaise. He steps back and takes a deep breath, needs a distraction so he makes himself busy - pulls off her boots, rolls each of her stockings down and off.

When she’s finally naked, she turns over and drops down on her back, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. She looks so sexy in her afterglow - looks like Aphrodite, like she’s _made_ of love and beauty and pleasure, and his heart stutters hard, his breath rushes out and he completely melts for her - would fall desperately in love with her if he wasn’t already. Her beautiful skin glows in the candlelight, her chest and face are flush with arousal, raven hair tousled, pink nipples peaked, and her slick need glistens between her thighs, and - _fuck_ \- a hot shiver rushes up his spine and he damn near falls to his knees with how much he wants her.

Robin reaches for her hand, pulls her to her feet so they are pressed chest to chest, and he kisses her deeply. He knows it’s only been a few minutes but it feels like forever since he’s kissed her, and he strokes his tongue against hers softly, feeling emotional, feeling like he’s insatiable, knowing he will never have enough of her. He combs his fingers into her hair, lifts the damp, ink colored strands off her neck as he slides his fingers through it, tugs lightly and tilts her head back so he can kiss her throat, all the way down to the dip between her clavicles before dragging his tongue back up.

He nips her chin, kisses her cheek and runs his hands down her lower back, over her arse and down to her thighs, dips down and lifts her easily as her arms instinctively go around his neck and her legs wrap around his waist. She makes this sexy, low, laugh as he carries her around to the back of the chaise and sets her on the thigh-high edge of the thickly cushioned, rounded backrest.

He runs his hands up her back to her shoulders and tugs lightly, urging her to tip back against his thick forearms. She raises her eyebrows and smirks a little as she locks her ankles around his waist and slowly, slowly tilts back against his arms, and as she does he drops his mouth to her chest. He laves his tongue wetly across the tops of her breasts as she leans back further, and he moves lower, circling the round, firm swells of her pert mounds with hot sucking kisses and light nips. He works the perimeter of first one, then the other, then starts to circle in closer and closer to her needy, sensitive tips, alternating back and forth between them as he licks around her areolas then pulls each pink tip into his mouth. She gasps as he sucks hard on each tight bud, her hips slide forward and knock sensually into his as she arches back even more in her pleasure. She strokes lovingly down the back of his head and neck as he works on her, as he covers every inch of her gorgeous breasts with his talented mouth, teases her nipples with flicks of his tongue and suckles them hotly, pulling them into stiff, shining peaks as she pants and moans and arches back against his hands.

He’s desperate to get inside of her again, but he’s calmed enough that he’s not going to embarrass himself now, and as he pulls back a little he cuts himself a break because  _Christ, just fucking look at her._

His hands are locked at her lower back as she arches away from him, her dark hair tumbling back from her face, exposing the smooth column of her neck to him. Her lips are swollen and red from their kisses, all traces of her lipstick gone, and her breasts are marked lightly with little red blotches from where his teeth and lips sucked on her hot, perfect skin.

He’s shocked he’s lasted this long.

She pulls herself upright again and runs her hands across his shoulders, up into his hair and scratches lightly down the back of his neck as he shivers under her touch. Her hands are quite literally magic and he is weak for her sweet attentions, so he wastes no time - tips her hips toward his body a little, coats himself with her hot wetness and strokes smoothly into her.

She feels even tighter like this, wrapped around him and braced against the heavy piece of furniture, and he takes a half-step back, shifts his hands to her hips and pulls her forward a little, presses into her as deep as he can get. He gives her one, two, three long, firm strokes, coating his himself thoroughly with her sweet juices, and then he lets the dam break - he starts thrusting hard against her, shakes her entire body with his sudden change in momentum. She gasps _Ohhh!_ in pleasure and surprise, digs her nails into his shoulders as she tries to hang on, but he’s purposefully pulling her hips forward and up to tip her balance back. Her hands slip from his shoulders with each rapid thrust and her fingernails bite into his triceps as she drags her hands down his arms, tilting back-back-back, unable to brace or catch herself as he holds her hips up and pounds into her fiercely.

And it’s exactly what he wanted - wanted to throw her off balance and give him some room to rub her hot little clit, cause he knows that’s what she needs, what she wants, and _he_ wants to give it to her. He’s got her bent backward over the backrest of the chair, arched hard up at him, her clit and sex completely exposed and her hands are at either side of her head trying to brace as the chaise holds up her lower back. He’s so entranced with his strong, _flexible_ girl - and with her in this position, he doesn’t have to hold her up anymore, gets the range of motion he needs to stroke into her long, and hard, and deep. He licks the pad of his thumb, finds her engorged, neglected clit and rubs vigorously back and forth against it. He pushes and pulls her hips against him as he thrusts, watches as her tits bounce toward her face and he - _oh god, fuck she’s hot_ \- he slides balls deep into her with each thrust.

She gasps, moans constantly under him as she takes and takes and takes his cock, calls to him breathlessly, _“Robin, oh god,”_ and _“Feels so good,”_ and _“Don’t stop.”_

He rubs faster on her clit, pistons quickly, the sound of him sliding through her soaked sex filling the room with obscene squelching noises as he gives it to her deep, working up a sweat as his abs and thighs burn with exertion, but he doesn't dare stop, doesn't slow, she's shuddering under him already and he’s getting close again - was overconfident in his ability to outlast her.

He snaps his hips into her, commands, “Regina, look at me,” and when her dark chocolate eyes meet his, he pounds into her, presses down on her clit - rubs it fast and firm - rakes his gaze hotly, _deliberately_ across her body, and says, “You really _are_ the fairest of them all, darling.”

Her neck arches and her mouth drops open prettily as she responds to his words, a sharp, “Fuck” slipping from her swollen lips. And then - _thank god -_ her hips snap up, her thighs tremble and shake around his hips, and he uses his free hand to hold her down as he rubs faster and faster at her throbbing clit, buries his cock and goes deep-deep-deep, and she _shatters_ \- makes this hot, high pitched yelp as she spasms around him, inner walls fluttering fast and hard on him as he tries to stay deep, and _fuck_ , she’s so much tighter as she comes, she’s _impossibly_ tight and he groans with her hot, slick, clenching grip around him, and then he’s coming with her, helpless to stop it, his hips jerking and balls contracting as he pulls out. He watches the liquid fluid of her orgasm rush from her, dies a little with the vision, strokes his fingers through her hot, swollen slit then pumps them into her as her creamy need runs down her, and he’s coming _so hard_ \- jets of his come spattering on the stone floor as he pumps himself to completion with his other hand and thrusts his calloused fingers shamelessly into her twitching, soaked sex.

They’re both breathing hard, panting into the quiet of the vault as they come down from their sexual high, and he strokes his hands up her sides, pulls her upper body to him as he helps her sit up. He wraps his arms around her tightly, pressing kisses to her cheek, her neck, her ear - everything he can reach while he hugs her to him.

He’s exhausted, breathless, spent, and in love with her, and he has no idea what comes next - if she considers this a momentary lapse in self control or if she wants more, is ready for them to be more.

He pulls back and presses his forehead to hers, because this is their thing - their connection - and she rubs her nose against his as they hold steady for a moment, breathing each other’s air. Her gaze turns so, so serious as she swallows thickly and asks, “Stay with me tonight?”

 

She’s perfect. So perfect. He is so in love with her.

 

“Yeah,” he says softly, kisses her again and says, “I’m with _you_ , Regina. It’s just you and me - will always be you and me.” She nods, and he kisses her lips softly, continues, “Tomorrow I’m going to leave her, I’m going to make it final - and then if you’ll let me, I’m going to do my best to make this up to you.”

He sees the fear in her eyes as she asks quietly, “You’re sure?”

He wants her to believe him - desperately wants her to see that he is absolutely sincere - so he pulls back a little, grabs her hand and places it on his chest, right over his heart.

“My heart is yours, Regina,” he says softly, “it beats only for you.”

He presses his hand hard over the top of hers, as if he _wants_ her to rip his heart from his chest - and he would let her, would tear it out himself in a second if she asked. She owns it - it belongs solely to her for as long as she wants it.

She ducks her head and rewards him with this beautiful, sweet smile that sends a wave of happiness through him, has him smiling too as she curls her fingers a little, digs her nails lightly into his chest as she kisses him and says simply, “Okay, Thief.”

There are blankets and pillows on the chaise, and he shifts things around, makes up a little bed for them. It is already early morning as they settle in, facing one another as he pulls the soft blankets up and over their naked bodies. She tangles one of her legs through his, and he drapes his arm across her, rubs his hand over the swell of her hip and pulls them closer together so their stomachs, chests, foreheads are almost touching.

He just wants to breathe her in, wants to live in the dazzling aura of her. He could spend his whole life worshipping her right here in this vault and would never tire of her - could die feeling satisfied that at least he was able to bring her pleasure, was able to see her beautiful, brilliant smile one more time.

They talk quietly as they settle in - about their lives, their children, anything and everything as they stroke each other with soft, comforting caresses, give sweet kisses and nestle into each other. Robin falls asleep with her, with his girl curled tightly into his chest, his hands on her back and his nose in her hair, and for the first time in weeks, he sleeps soundly for the few hours of the night that remain.

 

 

* * *

 

The morning comes quickly - much too quickly. Robin wakes and reaches for her, finds nothing but the cool blanket and is immediately up, tugging his trousers and undershirt on in record time. He finds her quickly in the main corridor where she is just slipping her boots on, and she’s gorgeous, _stunning_ as the light streams in behind her, casting a beautiful silhouette across half her features. His heart flips in his chest and he goes to her, has to touch her, has to be sure she is here with him and this isn’t just a dream.

She’s so sweet in his arms this morning, but she seems a little shy, nervous even as he pulls her close and kisses her deeply, strokes his tongue through her hot mouth, tugs her lips with his, and finally gets her to give him that pretty smile he loves so much. But she pulls back from him, returns them to their complicated reality as she points out he’s still married and she’s not about to continue their relationship while that is true. He understands, he does, and he doesn’t want to make her do anything she is uncomfortable with but he can’t keep his hands out of her hair, can’t stop kissing her between sentences, can’t stop running his hands over the swell of her arse in this tight little skirt she’s got on.

She crosses the room, reminds him that she’s trying to be better, trying to make up for the sins of her past and be a good person, and she’s just digging herself in deeper by getting involved with a married man. It’s not who she is, she simply won’t do it.

And Robin agrees. He will end his marriage this morning - tells her this honestly, sincerely, and he absolutely will.

But _Christ_ , she looks so good in her little black skirt, in her dark, plum colored blouse with her hair tousled and waving from their activities the night before, and he’s like a magnet to her, he can’t stop his desire from driving him across the room to kiss her again. He gets her to smile for him - _fuck_ she’s pretty - as he backs her up slowly, kisses her deeply against a stone pillar and before she can change her mind, he locks his arms under her arse and picks her up - walks back to the other room and falls with her onto his favorite chaise.

He crawls up her body and lays half on top of her as they kiss heatedly, their tongues slipping and sliding along each other as they lick and stroke and taste each other. He loves her perfect, full lips, thinks about them constantly - has to force himself to look away from her mouth when she speaks so he doesn’t get hard just looking at her - and he pulls at them with his teeth, sucking them between his lips as she pulls his head down harder to her and nips him back. He unbuttons her blouse, drops kisses across her collarbone and runs his hands up her sides, over her breasts and massages her, feels her nipples tightening for him as he strokes her through the thin fabrics of her red bra and camisole, and she sighs against him as she runs her hands over his arms. He’s intent on taking his time, wants to cover _every_ inch of her with his tongue, but she says quietly, “We have to hurry - I have to meet with the Charmings,” so he slides down her body instead - if he’s pressed for time he’s got priorities for where his tongue should be.

He rucks her skirt up, knows it’s going to be wrinkled when they’re done but he’s not wasting one spare second on trivial things like clothes - and he’s epically rewarded with his impatience - she’s not wearing any panties. His breath comes out sharp, the hot air right over her mound and she shivers under him as he stares at her naked sex for a moment, then grins smugly up at her as he remembers her thong is still in his trouser pocket. She smirks, lets her thighs fall open a little more and raises her eyebrows in expectation.

“My my, Your Majesty,” he says teasingly, settling on his elbows between her creamy thighs. “It seems you’ve forgotten part of your wardrobe this morning.” And he _cannot_ stop grinning.

She laughs softly, gives him an overly dramatic forlorn look as she brings the back of her hand to her forehead and says, “Alas, if only I knew a thief who could procure such a thing for me.”

He laughs earnestly - her humor is never appreciated enough - presses a hot kiss to the curve  of her mound, then another one - then two more because he can’t help himself - and says, “I am sorry, my queen, but the only thief present is intent on stealing your hot, slick need with his tongue. I do hope that will suffice?” He drops his mouth to her slit and licks very, _very_ lightly across her smooth outer lips. She gasps softly, her hips roll a little, and he does it again, teasing her as she finds her voice, now a little breathy as she concedes, “I suppose I’ll have to make due.”

He laughs again, catches her eyes and sees her grinning back at him, and she’s so wonderful - she’s just _so everything_ , and he knows deep down in his soul that this is right - she is _right_ for him and he’s going to spend the rest of his life showing her how much he appreciates her.

He starts sucking kisses into the sensitive flesh all around her sweet sex - works each of her outer lips, the crease between each thigh and her mound, traces swirls across her inner thighs with his fingertips as he gently spreads her a little wider for him. She’s excited, her lower belly quivers with each of her breaths as she anticipates his next move, and he wishes he could stay between her legs for hours. He brings his hands in and strokes the pads of his thumbs down her thoroughly kissed outer lips, spreads her open for him and laves his tongue straight up the center of her, flattening it out against her and letting it drag slowly... slowly... slowly... from the soft skin below her opening all the way up to her clit. He does it again, strokes her firm and slow, and his thumbs smooth up and down the flesh of her outer lips in time with his tongue.

She’s getting slick for him - was already a little wet when he started but now she’s starting to warm up, her body is preparing, is wanting more from him, and he zig zags his tongue over her, circles around her clit before dipping back down and teasing her opening, gathering her juices on his tongue and moaning with the sweet taste of her.

She tastes like heaven, like pure, perfect desire and he slides his tongue into her, brings one thumb in to rub firm, slow circles against her clit as his tongue laps greedily at her, penetrates her and swipes up her hot, slippery juices. Her breathing has ramped up, her chest is heaving a little with the deep breaths she’s taking as he rubs her and trails his tongue through her sex. He increases the speed of his thumb, swirling it over her sensitive bundle of nerves as he laps and sucks on her, pulls her sweet, pink inner lips into his mouth and suckles softly, laving them with his tongue and flicking across them, and as they swell a little with her arousal he can’t help but be in awe of her again - her hot, glistening sex is on full display for him and she’s _fucking gorgeous_. Her hips start to roll up to him, thrusting a tiny bit, and he brings his left hand down, slips two fingers into his mouth and then sinks them slowly up into her, curling as he goes and putting pressure against the front of her until her breathing goes sharp - and that’s where he focuses. He thrusts his fingers slowly at first but builds up quickly until he’s got a firm, steady rhythm going and she’s starting to pant now, starting to make soft little gasps above him as he taps his fingers against that sensitive spot inside of her and rubs a little faster on her clit.

Her hands are in his hair, massaging his scalp as he patiently stays on her like this for several minutes - and she slowly spirals up, up, up, tightening on him as he gives her this steady, paced pleasure. He kisses her everywhere he can reach as he murmurs sweet words - _So beautiful, you’re perfect, my god_ \- and encouragements - _that’s it darling, relax and let me take care of you_ \- and every filthy thought that enters his mind - _When all this is settled I’m gonna eat you for hours, babe - gonna spend my mornings between your thighs making you come on my tongue for breakfast._

She’s shuddering now, her thighs starting to tremble as he speeds the thrusts of his fingers and trades his thumb for his tongue against her clit. He sucks greedily at her, pulling at her engorged bud with his lips and letting it pop from his mouth, then sucking it in again so he can tap, flick, and flurry against it with his tongue.

She’s moaning now, rocking her hips up to his mouth and demanding, “More, more, Robin - _goddddd,”_ as he attends to her, and he does it, gives her more, slips a third finger into her and starts pumping rapidly with sharp punctuated thrusts, her juices coating his fingers as he stretches her, and she groans, _Yes - Yes - Ohhhh_! and gasps with each movement. He sucks on her clit, flick-flicks against it as fast as he can, and then he loses her suddenly, her hips buck and her sensitive bud slips from his mouth, and he grins broadly, uses his thumb to her ravage her clit as her inner muscles clamp down erotically on his thick, thrusting fingers. Her hands twist hard in the sheets as she arches, as he rubs swiftly across her clit, fucks her hard and deep and fast-fast-fast with his unrelenting digits, pulling another gasp as she clenches and clenches and spasms, swivels her hips wantonly, grinds down hard on his hand as she comes for him.

She’s breathless when he finally pulls his thick, slick fingers from her, and he’s hard, so hard for her and it's going to be a huge feat of restraint but he wants to wait, _will_ wait to come until she lets him back inside of her - hopefully later today, maybe even by lunchtime if he can get her alone. He slides his fingers into his mouth, sucks on them and closes his eyes with pleasure, with his excitement. She murmurs, “My god you’re filthy,” and he laughs, pulls his fingers from his mouth and looks up at her.

“You’re just jealous,” he says smugly, makes a show of licking his fingers again.

Regina rolls her eyes and shimmys her skirt back down as he slides up the chaise to lay next to her. She checks her phone and says disappointedly, “I’m late - I’m sorry - I have to go,” but she doesn’t get up just yet, and when she turns her face to him, he kisses her lips quickly, presses his tongue deep into her mouth and moans with the kink of his actions - knowing she can taste herself on his lips, on his tongue. She surprises him - strokes her tongue enthusiastically along his - licks and bites his lips as she pushes him down onto his back. She gives him hot, sucking kisses and light nips over his lips, his chin, strokes her fingers across his scruff and moans as she sinks her tongue into his mouth once more.

She pulls back sharply and now he’s the breathless one. Her dark brown eyes are dilated with desire, her ebony hair falling softly around her as she leans over him and kisses him again, says, “I already know how I taste, Thief - it’s your flavor I’m more interested in.”

 

 _Christ_ \- she is the sexiest, hottest woman in all the realms, she is _the_ queen and he should have known better, should have known she could easily out-tease him.

 

He groans, he is so, so hard and they don’t have time - she’s already late, but he can’t help it, he rolls her onto her back, presses his open mouth to hers in a hot, biting kiss as he slides between her legs and thrusts his hard, completely covered cock against her.

She smiles guiltily up at him, bites her lip and then goes serious as she asks him, “Maybe later today?”

He grins broadly at her - confident - and tells her “Absolutely,” that as soon as he has things sorted today he will find her, will show her how loyal he is to her, how much he wants her and _only_ her.

They have to depart quickly then and she kisses him goodbye, strokes her fingers softly along his jawline in this perfect touch he loves, and he can’t help but feel like the luckiest bloke alive. Because he is _hers_ and soon, he is going to make her _his_.

 

 


	6. The Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part One:  
> Lady Gaga - Dope  
> Taylor Swift - Wildest Dreams  
> Part Two:  
> The Airborne Toxic Event - Sometime Around Midnight  
> Florence and the Machine - Heavy In Your Arms

 

 

Chapter Five - The Goodbye 

  


He returns to the forest, his heart happy and his mind calm after his time spent with Regina, and he is excited to share his good mood with Roland. There is much to work out, but he finally feels like the direction his life is heading is correct, and he has to end things with Marian. It’s not fair to her to be with a man who is so completely in love with someone else.

She sees him approaching from across camp and waves him over, and he can tell immediately from the accusing look in her eyes that she has a good idea of where he was last night.

He doesn’t lie to her, admits he spent last night with Regina, although he leaves out the part about spending most of the night _in_ Regina, and tells her bluntly that their marriage is over. He’s an arsehole, he knows, he’s breaking Marian’s heart with Regina’s knickers still in his pocket and he feels terrible, really he does, but as bad as he feels in this moment it is nothing to how he felt when he broke things off with Regina those weeks ago.

Marian slaps him, calls him several names, and her ire is so vicious and uncharacteristic of the woman he knew that he can’t help but be shocked at her actions.

Then she tells him that she’s taking Roland from him, and everything goes red.

 

_The-fuck-she-is._

 

They start to argue heatedly, Robin’s normally cool temperament sizzling hot at her threats over Roland, and their raised voices draw the attention of several men at camp but he’s irate, will fight her tooth and nail - Roland is _his_ \- has been his whole life since the day he was born, was his _everything_ when Marian _died_ and how dare she even think for a second that he will let him go.

Marian throws the words ‘affair’, and ‘unfaithful’, and ‘broken vows’ at him and he’s ramping up, ready to fire back when suddenly there is ice in her hair, in her eyelashes, and she gets this stunned look as she shivers violently and collapses to the ground.

Robin’s jaw drops as he stares down at her unconscious form, and when he touches her, her skin feels ice cold. He gets Will - sends him for Regina, and within the half hour her signature swirl of purple smoke announces her presence as she appears just outside of camp. She comes to him quickly, follows him into his tent and looks Marian over, places her hands against her chest - some of the ice melts, and Marian regains consciousness, blinking up at Robin and Regina as she shivers with the cold.

“What’s happening?” Marian asks, frightened.

“The Snow Queen,” Regina mumbles, shaking her head.

“I thought she was defeated?” Robin asks, feeling stupid.

“She was, but apparently some of her curse still exists - it could be a remnant from the attack of that snow monster,” she surmises.

Robin is shocked. He feels fine, was exposed to the same attack as Marian. He argues this with Regina and she explains that magic is fickle - it doesn’t affect everyone the same way.

“What do we do?” he asks quietly as Marian stares at Regina with a mixture of jealousy and fear in her eyes.

Regina thinks for a minute and then this terrible, broken look comes over her features as she explains that the only way to save Marian is to send her across the town line into a world without magic. Since returning to Storybrooke will not be an option, she reasons that Marian will need someone to go with her, and Regina’s eyes drop from Robin’s with her insinuation.

“No.” he says firmly. He will not  go.

“Robin,” Regina says softly, “You can’t separate her from Roland, that’s so, so cruel - you _can’t_. You have to go with her.”

Robin feels like he might be having some sort of attack. His pulse races but he feels like he’s in slow motion. His face feels hot but his blood runs cold in his veins. His legs shake, the saliva in his mouth feels thick and slimy, his stomach churns violently and he turns suddenly, pushes his way out of his tent and makes it two steps before he empties his stomach.

Regina is there behind him, her warm hand is on his back and she rubs soothingly as he shakes and dry heaves and these awful sounds come out of his chest with the horror of the situation. He can’t be expected to do this, can’t be expected to give Regina up so quickly after just winning her back.

“I know,” she says softly to him, her hand rubs a little harder between his shoulder blades, and he feels the tremble in her fingers as she whispers “Me too.”

She hands him a canteen and he rinses his mouth, wipes his lips on his sleeve as he takes great, heaving breaths. He rinses his mouth again, spits the water out and turns to her.

“Regina, I can’t,” he whines, not knowing what to say, knowing that if there was some other way she would have already told him it. She shakes her head and wraps her arms fiercely around his neck, and he squeezes her hard, as tight to him as he possibly can, and he feels her shaking against him, losing the battle as her despair rushes through her. She tucks her face tight into the crook of his neck, and it’s wet - her tears slide across his skin and he gives up, starts crying too, and he just clings to her as she trembles in his arms and they pour their grief into the cold air around them.

Little John sets his hand on Robin’s shoulder and he jerks in surprise, his moment with Regina is broken and she pulls away, turns her back to him and runs her hands over her face. Robin scowls at John, but then he sees the concern in his face as the big man says, “She’s fadin’ fast, Rob, I think y’ought to go now.”

  


 

* * *

 

  


They’re standing at the town line and Robin feels like he’s in a nightmare. He can’t believe that this is what fate has in store for him, that he is to be separated once again from the woman he is meant to be with for the woman he once vowed an obligation to. It’s so unbelievably unfair.

Roland is having a complete meltdown. Robin realizes he should not have told him this was goodbye, but he couldn’t lie to him - he never lies to him - and it’s making the entire thing _that_ much worse because his son refuses, absolutely _refuses_ , to let go of Regina. Robin fears he will have to force him from her, will have to drag him away, and it is not a memory he wants any of them to have.

Marian shivers violently under the long heavy cloak he bestowed on her and snaps at him to hurry. He knows he should, she is literally freezing to death, but Roland won’t come, and Regina is completely wrapped up with him, kneeling on the cold, hard pavement as she cries and whispers to him and covers his face in kisses. His little hands fist tightly in her wool overcoat and Robin doesn’t have the will to separate them yet - he will give them every second he can spare.

Robin’s eyes burn with misery and he wants to vomit - would if he could - but his stomach is empty and the best he can do is dry heave, trying desperately to quiet the sound of it so he doesn’t sully Regina’s last few moments with Roland.

As he watches, Roland says something to Regina and her body suddenly goes very still. She leans into Roland, asks his boy something he can’t hear and Roland nods enthusiastically, sobbing and trembling in her arms. Regina rises slowly, brows furrowed and an odd look in her eyes as she takes Roland’s hand and guides him back to Robin. She spares him barely a glance as she exchanges her hand for his in Roland’s grip, and then she walks right up to Marian and pulls her into a tight hug.

Marian looks shocked as Regina pulls back from her, places her hands on her shoulders and with menace in her voice she says, “Nice try, sis.”

Regina shoves Marian **_hard_ ** \- she trips on her cloak and tumbles backwards across the town border, and Robin startles with the action, has no idea what the bloody hell has just happened, takes two quick steps toward Marian's sprawled form -

 

And then Marian’s skin turns _green_.

 

_Kelly-fucking-green._

 

The Wicked Witch of the West is suddenly on the opposite side of the town line where Marian just was, and she is completely livid - is cursing Regina and screaming that she’ll get her, she’ll be back - and Robin’s brain isn’t working, isn’t connecting the dots for what the fucking-fuck just happened.

Regina turns her back on the irate, green woman and Roland runs to her. She swings him up quickly and settles him on her hip as she tells him how brave he is, how he is her _hero_ and that he single-handedly defeated the Wicked Witch. Roland blushes bright red and eats up every word she tells him, enthusiastically agreeing with her and already embellishing his story as Regina smiles broadly at him and calls him her knight.

Robin loves his son, loves Regina, and he should feel happy in this moment but instead he feels…

  


Violated.

  


This nasty feeling slinks down his back, makes his skin positively crawl as he thinks over the past few weeks. He thinks of all the touches, kisses, tender moments, and emotions he shared as he tried to reconnect with the woman he thought was his wife.

It was all a ruse.

A complete lie.

Robin fucking _hates_ magic.

How could he not tell the difference between Marian and that green bitch? What kind of man is he?

 

He fills with shame - thinks of the many times he left Roland alone with her, of the danger and damage that could have befallen his little boy at his neglect, at his inability to detect the wicked magic. He thinks of how he hurt Regina and Henry, how his own heart suffered as he was torn between his past love and his new love, and it’s awful - the humiliation completely invades his body, his face and ears feel hot, his breaths are short, and he can’t stay here, he can’t let her see him fall to pieces - can’t let her see what a failure he is.

He has no idea what he’s doing anymore. Can’t tell the difference between good and evil, truth and lies, righteousness and corruption.

How can he ever trust anyone again? How can he ever be sure that a person is who they say they are? What if Zelena had glamoured herself as Regina? He could have, might have - oh god - the idea is disgusting and he’s completely mortified at the scandal his life has just become.

Regina calls his name and he can’t look at her, can’t bear to see the disappointment he is sure is written across her beautiful face. Her voice is concerned as she calls his name again, and he catches her movement in his periphery as she starts toward him, but he shakes his head no, he cannot handle her disappointment in him, can’t bear it, and he says, “No!” as he scrubs his hands over his face and steps back.

Her movement halts and he shakes his head violently, runs his hands harshly through his hair, pulling it, as he takes another step back.  “I can’t,” he rasps, disgraced. “Regina, I can’t,” is all he manages to get out as his heart fills with his shame and he turns, stalks off into the forest and prays she won’t follow.

She doesn’t, thank god, she takes his son and he hears the engine of her car rumble to life, and the sound of her driving away is his only relief as he walks into the forest. His humiliation quickly overcomes him and drives him on, further and further, until he is sweating and winded, has trekked miles upon miles in his defeat.  

There is a fallen oak up ahead, and he sits heavily on the broad trunk, buries his head in his hands and screams his despair into the quiet woods.

 

 


	7. The Misunderstanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tove Lo - Habits (Stay High)  
> The xx - Lips  
> Halsey - Hold Me Down

 

 

Chapter Six - The Misunderstanding 

 

No one talks about the repercussions of something like this.

Maybe no one else has gone through it, but with all the magic he has seen, he doubts that.

It makes him feel weak. Stupid.

 

He can’t believe that he could be so easily duped - he almost lost everything and if his son hadn’t had better sense than he did, he _would_ have lost it all. It makes him sick with self-loathing.

He’s been avoiding Regina entirely - can’t face her, can’t bear to admit his complete failure - so he sends John to collect Roland from her. He’s in no state to parent a child, knows without a doubt that he is not at all capable right now, so when John returns childless with the news that she will _not_ relinquish Roland until Robin gets himself back together, he goes with it, trusts her judgment over his own. His heart aches with how much he loves her, with how she is so protective, so _good_ to his son. Regina is a wonderful, beautiful mother despite what the town has been led to believe, and he knows that she will care for his boy as if he were naturally hers.

She deserves so much more than a degenerate thief who couldn’t tell the difference between his dead wife and a complete stranger.

 

 

* * *

 

  
It’s been a week and he’s tried many things - meditation, long walks, sleep, smoke, but nothing makes him feel better. So tonight he’s at the Rabbit Hole trying to drown the shame with scotch as he sits in a booth at the back of the bar and stares angrily into the empty red cushions across from him.

 

And then the Charmings show up.

 

He’s a bit drunk, not sloppy but definitely buzzed, and he doesn’t find it to be an issue, not until they swarm him - Emma and David slide into the booth across from him as Snow and Hook take up post at the high top just next to him.

He can’t do this right now. He cannot sit here and listen as they launch into their pep talk about hope and believing in oneself, and how everything will be okay, and blah blah, la-de-bloody-la.

Robin stares at Emma. Stares _hard_ at her as paranoia and anger swirl through him.

 

Did she know? Did she? _Did she???_

 

The blonde is looking at him with her mouth gaping like a fish, and he suddenly realizes he’s asked that out loud, has damn near screamed it at her across the table.

David flares up, sternly tells him to calm down and reaches for his arm but Robin snatches it away, leans back in the booth and growls, “Don’t touch me.”

David bristles, obviously peeved with Robin’s attitude and tells him again to calm down. Emma starts prattling on again about how she just _couldn’t let her die_ and Robin can’t _stand it_ \- cannot stand her arrogance or the self-righteous attitudes that plague the entire Charming family. The scotch has made his normally civil tongue loose, the stress and humiliation of the recent days has rotted his mind, has infected every thought with fury.

“Can’t you just shut it for one bloody second?” he snaps at Emma, pointing angrily at her as she clamps her mouth shut in shock. “If you hadn’t fucking meddled, none of this would have happened. Do you have **_any_ ** idea what you’ve done? The pain you’ve caused? Not just to me, but to Roland? To Regina? _To Henry?_ Do you _ever_ think about _anyone_ but yourself? How dare you sit there and defend your actions to me - you have no idea, no clue how much suffering you’ve caused.” He’s glad there is a table between them. He’s ranting and out of control and he wants to throttle her.

Emma starts to respond, her temper rising, but Charming stands suddenly, his male ego practically shimmering around him as he arrogantly snaps, “That’s enough, _thief_ ,” and oh, Robin is in no mood to take this shite today.

 

Robin stands.

 

Snow places a hand on David’s arm and says quickly, “David, stop - he’s drunk. I’m calling Regina.” She dials quickly as Robin stares at her in disbelief.

“Oh yeah,” he goads, “call step-mummy to clean up your mess, just like always.”

Snow pauses her phone conversation to ask, outraged, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“For someone whose life you so carelessly ruined you sure don’t mind having her step in and save your arse every time trouble comes knocking,” he rages. He turns and glares at the lot of them, “You fucking Charmings - you show up, take what you want, ruin everyone else’s lives and turn hypocrite the _second_ something doesn’t go your way. How many lives have you ruined on your selfish quests for righteousness? How many?!” He’s so, so angry, can’t stop his mouth from running, can’t stop the hurt from pouring out of him. “And you have the nerve _\- the nerve!_ \- to call Regina a villain?” he spits. “Take a look in the fucking mirror.” He slams his hand down against the high top table and when Snow jumps in surprise, David moves - shoves him back, but Robin isn’t nearly as drunk as David thinks and he reacts instinctively, absorbs the push and slams his fist into David’s cheek in a hard right hook.

The heavy punch knocks David right down on his arse, and then chaos erupts around him.

Snow gasps, scrambles backward as David goes down, her phone falling from her hand as she moves and then bends to comfort him, Emma is up out of the booth, has pulled her gun and is pointing it at Robin, and Hook - well, Hook just sips his rum and tells Emma to put the pistol away. The rest of the bar has gone silent, watching the drama unfold.

“Go ahead, _Sheriff_ ,” Robin snaps, points at his heart then spreads his arms wide, “put me back in my place - just a commoner amongst royalty - I’m NO ONE to you lot - _completely expendable_.” He hates them. Fucking hates royals. They’re all the same.

 

“You’re someone to me,” he hears, and his eyes close at the soft, rasping sound of Regina’s voice.

 

He drops his arms and takes a deep breath, opens his eyes to see Emma putting the gun away. He turns to Hook - takes the shot of rum right out of his hand and downs it - then turns to Regina, his beautiful, _beautiful_ Regina, puts his hands on either side of her face and kisses her.

He’s surprised that she lets him - he mostly expected her to throw him off, to slap him for his audacity and inappropriate, terrible behavior. But she doesn’t - she steps into his space and wraps her arms tightly around his waist, rubs soothingly up and down against his lower back as he slides his tongue through her lips.

And this is _her_. He _knows_ it’s her, can _feel_ that this is _his_ Regina with her lips pressed to his, and he is relieved that he can at least tell the difference with her, can tell that _she_ is not a lie.

She lets him invade her sweet mouth for another second, lets him sweep his tongue against hers once more but then she pulls back, slides her hands up his chest to cup his neck and pulls him down to press her forehead to his.

“Breathe, Robin,” she whispers to him, nudges his nose with hers, and he closes his eyes and nods against her - his eyes suddenly feel hot, burning, and he grits his teeth as he tries hard to put his emotions back in check.

There is a rough hand pulling on his shoulder then, and he hears David snarl, “We’re not done here,” but then the hand is suddenly gone, and Regina has lifted her head to look over Robin’s shoulder as she barks, “Be gone, _shepherd_.”

Robin starts to turn but she holds tight to the lapels of his jacket, keeps him turned into her as she tugs him down and kisses his lips softly, tilts her head and strokes her tongue sweetly against his lips until he opens for her, then she teases his tongue with hers, runs it across the roof of his mouth, nips at his bottom lip - sucks it softly - then starts the whole process over again. When she finally pulls back and releases him, the entire Charming clan has departed and the bar has returned to business as usual.

 

She’s such a clever woman. _Christ_ he loves her.

 

She pulls him down into the booth with her, and as she slides across she takes his forgotten glass of scotch and throws the entire thing back. Then she’s kissing him again.

He turns fully toward her in the booth, threads his fingers through her thick, dark hair, tugs her to him as he kisses her like he’s dying of thirst and she’s his oasis. He’s aggressive, can’t stop his desperation from making him rough against her as their teeth clack, as he scrapes his incisors across her bottom lip, as he fucks her mouth with his tongue and strokes his hands down the column of her throat. She pulls him closer by the cotton of his hoodie, moans into his mouth and the vibration goes straight to his cock.

He’s shocked by her actions, by her acceptance of him and the hot lust she’s radiating in this public place as they make out like teenagers in the booth, and he wants to get his hands under her heavy coat, wants to run his tongue across her sensitive skin, wants to give her all of the remaining love and pleasure he has left in him after his recent failures. He suddenly _needs_ to be inside of her - needs to feel her clenching on him, needs to feel her slick desire coating his skin before she comes to her senses and rejects him for the lost cause he is.

She pulls her mouth from his with a wet smacking noise and her breath is sweet, tinged with the scotch she stole from him as he inhales her. She’s breathing heavily - he watches hawkishly as she licks her lips and he immediately wants to press his against hers again.

“Want you,” he rasps, bringing his hand up to stroke the curve of her cheekbone.

“Yeah,” she breathes.

“Want you now,” he says, “Your place?”

She shakes her head no, says, “The boys. Yours?”

He shakes his head - that won’t work either, because it’s a fucking tent and he wants to make her come without having to restrain her enthusiasm. He feels like he’s on limited time - like if he doesn’t figure this out in the next two seconds she’s going to change her mind, and he can’t have that - he loves her so much, wants to show her. “C’mon,” he says urgently, grabs her hand, throws an unknown amount of money at the table and pulls her from the booth. They head out the back entrance of the bar, and he has no idea where he’s going, just knows that he needs her alone and he needs to be inside of her _right-fucking-now_.

They appear in the parking lot, and this won’t do - it’s too exposed and he needs her to himself, can’t bear the thought of an interruption, so he looks around quickly, spots the tall building across the street and his decision is instantly made. He pulls her behind him, her heels clacking loudly on the sidewalk with their hurried pace as he makes a beeline for it. The next thing he knows, he’s picked three locks, scaled the staircase at light speed, and is pressing the Mayor up against the interior wall of the clock tower as he licks and nips and sucks on the hot skin of her perfect neck.

She’s wearing white under her black overcoat tonight - this hot little white dress with a wide scooped neckline, black tights and high heel boots, and _jesus fuck_ \- she brings every man to his knees with these outfits she wears, himself included. His lips run the width of the neckline, from one shoulder, down across her sternum and up the wide edge to her other shoulder as her hands skate over the planes of his lower back, and he would do this all night if he thought for a second she would let him, if he wasn’t quite so desperate, if he wasn’t certain she is about to come to her senses and recognize the mistake she’s making with him.

The feel of her skin against his lips is pure heaven. _She_ is pure heaven. He can’t stop.

He runs his hands all over her, stops to knead the full mounds of her breasts and she moans for him, rocks her hips into his as she nips along his jawline. He reaches for the hem of her dress, starts inching it up as he presses hot kisses against her, whispers, “Fuck babe, need to be in you, want you so bad.”

She nods to him, makes this _mmhmm_ noise low in her throat and he pulls her dress up faster, searching for the waistband of her tights and then suddenly, she’s not wearing tights. She’s not wearing _anything_ under her dress.

He pulls back and looks down stupidly, corrects his earlier statement - She is pure _sin_.  

“ _Christ,_ ” he moans as he brings his hands to her naked hips, slides his palms against her hot skin and before he can stop it he sinks to his knees before her. This might be a quick fuck in the clock tower but if he doesn’t get his mouth on her first, doesn’t get her arousal worked up to the level his is, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.

And he cannot fail her again.

He immediately pulls her left leg up and slides it over his shoulder, opening her perfect sex to him, and he breathes her in as he licks firmly through her folds.

She’s wet for him, and it’s glorious.

He dives into her enthusiastically, sucks at her outer lips and runs his tongue along her slit, dips further and runs through her folds, shifts his shoulders to the side and spreads her thighs wider as he presses his whole mouth against her and sucks.

She makes this sweet, _Oooo-oooo_ noise above him as he rubs his tongue over her clit - both her hands dropping instantly to run through his hair and scratch her fingernails across his scalp.

He works on her clit vigorously - he’s not playing tonight - can’t - he is already fighting his desire for her so hard that his hands shake with restraint. He slides his right hand up and smooths two fingers along her slippery petals, then sinks them in with almost no resistance.

 

Jesus - she’s always so, so tight.

 

His hard cock twitches and throbs his need, and he groans with the sensation. He wants to wait, wants to work her up so she’ll come when he’s fucking her - he doesn’t know how long he’ll last but he’s learning her - knows she needs that little bit extra, and he has sworn to always give it to her, to make sure she is _always_ satisfied.

He curls his fingers a little as he thrusts into her, angles his wrist slightly different and suddenly her hips jerk toward him, she gasps out a harsh _yeah, yeah!_ and that’s it - that’s the spot she needs. He works her quickly, careful not to let his fingers go too stiff, doesn’t want to hurt her but _does_ want to hurry her, and he pistons his fingers quick-quick-quick as her hips roll toward him and her fingers pull softly at his hair. He brings his left hand over and starts rubbing at her swollen little bud, matches the pace with the drive of his fingers, and she’s moaning over him now. He glances up at her and it knocks the breath right out of him - her head is thrown back, red lips parted, eyes closed and forehead scrunched as she chases her pleasure, and he can’t help it, she knows his mouth is filthy and he has to tell her how hot she is.

“God -  you’re sopping wet for me,” he pants against her stomach as his fingers flurry over her, and she gasps out something close to _Uh-huh_. “You’ve got me so hard, darling, wanna fuck you deep - you ready to take me?”

Her hips rock against his hands and she’s so, so hot - her slick juices run down his palm, down the back of his hand as he fingers her, and _Christ_ \- he’s going to come in his pants if he doesn’t get in her soon.

“Yeah,” she whines as he speeds up on her clit, “Give it to me,” she moans.

He’s on his feet in less than a second. His shaking hands fumble his belt so she helps him with it, and when he rucks his jeans down and pulls himself out she goes right for him. The sight of her perfectly manicured fingernails wrapped tightly around him nearly has him coming - makes him thrust into her fist, makes him groan as he jerks forward and drops sucking kisses against her collarbone.

She pulls him up to her by his cock and a little rush runs through him. She licks her fingers and smears her saliva around the head of him - gets him ready for her - then hikes her leg up high over his hip and goes to her tiptoes as he bends his knees and drives his thick length up into her.

She is perfect, wonderful bliss.

He wraps his right hand around her thigh at his hip, slides his fingers back to grip her ass and pulls her up onto him a little more as he starts thrusting slowly. He gives her a second to adjust, goes slow and smooth for a few strokes as her slippery need coats the length of him. He presses his mouth to hers and slides his tongue into her in tandem with his cock, and she sucks in a breath quickly through her nose as he speeds up just a little. He sucks at her lips, pulling them into his mouth, warring with her as she nips at him, as she tilts her head and thrusts her perfect tongue back into his mouth. She bites his lip, clenches her internal muscles on him and he moans, breaks the kiss and drops his head.

“Faster,” she commands, and he can never tell her no.

Her arms wrap tight around his shoulders, fingers pressing hard against the leather of his jacket as he thrusts into her - faster, faster - he shifts and hooks his elbow under her knee as he opens her to him, until he’s driving so hard that she’s bouncing on her tiptoes as he fucks up into her, her back connecting with the wall with each thrust, and she’s moaning, making high pitched _ah-ah-ah’s_ , and _she’s fucking beautiful_ as she writhes against him.

He’s bracing his free hand against the wall and panting hard, she’s so tight and hot and slick - she's soaking him and he can feel the moisture against his pelvis, knows the bottom edge of his shirt is getting soaked as he fucks her. His balls swing with the force as he drives into her, and he’s getting close, can’t last much longer, but jesus, he wants her to come around him, wants that more than he wants his own orgasm, so he drops his lips to her ear, knows she wants this - wants him to talk to her, and he loves it - loves the way she clenches on him when he does it.

“Got you stretched so wide - you’re throbbing babe, so tight my cock can feel your pulse.”

She gasps _Oh god_ as he speeds his thrusts, nips the shell of her ear, “What do you need, huh? Want me to rub your clit? Or do you want me to turn you ‘round and rut you over the railing like the wanton girl I know you are?”

She rewards him with a sharp gasp of _Ohhhh jesus_ as he snaps his hips up into her, digs his fingers into her ass as he pistons.

“Tell me babe,” he rasps against her ear, “tell me what you need and I’ll fucking do it until you see stars.”

“Clit -” she whines, and he immediately shoves the hand he was bracing with between them, his thumb goes for her sensitive nub and he rubs it fast, rough as he pounds up into her, and he takes a half-step back from the wall, lets her bend away from him a little to give him room as his thumb grinds against her.

It only takes a few seconds - she must have been so close already - he feels her orgasm start, feels her muscles start to tighten as he rubs her clit - fast-fast-fast-fast- and then she clenches fully on him, a moan tearing from her lips as she arches in his arms, and he moves his hand from her clit to her hip as he goes all in - pushes and pulls her - slams her roughly down onto him, hits her deep as she clenches, and he gives it to her harder, harder - she’s moaning so loud, cursing and saying his name - and then he’s done - she’s milking his cock too hard and he can’t hold off - he starts to come, pulls out quickly and her hand beats him to it - circles his wet, slick length, starts stroking him quick-quick-quick, sliding through her own fluid lubrication and - _fuck-oh-christ -_ he completely loses control - paints her bare stomach with hot spurts as he clutches her thigh tightly, jerks in her fist, and he groans - his abs clench as she pulls his come from him with each stroke of her pretty fingers.

Her hand slows on him and he lets her leg slide down off his elbow gently as he holds her waist, helps her carefully regain her balance. They’re both breathless, sweating and flushed, little wisps of her hair are sticking to her forehead, her neck, and she’s so sexy, he can’t help it as he dives in to capture her lips again, slides to the side and kisses her cheek, her temple.

He grabs his jeans and reaches into his back pocket, pulls out his handkerchief and smooths it across her flat stomach as he wipes his mess from her so she doesn’t ruin her dress as she pulls it down. He crams the soiled cloth back into his pocket and steps back a little as he rights his clothes, his hands noticeably less shaky now. She fixes her dress and her tights reappear before his eyes.

 

Robin reaches for her, wants to apologize for his behavior in the bar, so he meets her eyes as he tucks a thick lock of her hair behind her ear and says softly, “I’m sorry for all of this.”

He drops his hand, rubs it across his mouth as he fights the growing panic that she’s about to realize how worthless he is. “Regina, I can't....” he trails off, wants to tell her that he can't blame her if she rejects him, but feels too ashamed so he steps back, shakes his head and says stupidly, “Thank you for caring for Roland.”

When he brings his eyes up she looks hurt and her gaze hardens as she looks him over. And he can see the change in her demeanor - this is it - she has finally come to her senses and realized her mistake, realized that he is a failure, that she is much too good for him.

She purses her lips and nods. “You can send John for him in the morning,” she she says quietly, and there is a sharp edge to her voice. She sounds angry and he knows - he gets it - he’s a complete fuck-up.

“Alright” he says softly as she shifts away - moves off to the side and circles toward the stairs. “I truly am sorry,” he says again.

She flashes her dark brown eyes at him and snaps, “I heard you the first time.”

He grimaces. He would do anything to be with her, knows he has failed her too many times to even ask for forgiveness, but she should know how perfect she is - he _needs_ her to know, he _needs_ to tell her. “Regina, you deserve better than this.”

She clenches her jaw tightly. “Better than being fucked in the clock tower?” she asks sarcastically, looking down as she buttons her coat.

His eyes burn with his shame. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I just - I want you to know that you deserve it all, you’re a queen and you’re so good - _you’re everything_ \- and I want you to have it all, I want you to be happy.”

Regina furrows her brow, her eyes hot and wet looking as she snaps, “Stop, just stop. Save the speech for someone else, Robin.” She shakes her head as she clenches her jaw, and a little vein in her forehead puffs up. “You know, I actually thought this was something real. I thought you wanted to be together -” her voice breaks and she cuts herself off -  rubs her hand across her forehead as she says, “I should never have believed that stupid fairy. I haven’t felt this used since before my mother died.”

Confusion surges through Robin and he asks her, “What do you mean, _used?!_ ”

“I have to go,” she says suddenly, and he has no idea what the hell just happened.

He’s been trying to give her the easy out she deserves, trying to be gentle as she rejects him and now she’s accusing him of using her?

“Regina, I haven’t used you - _Christ_ \- I’m, I'm in love with you! I would do _any_ -” he starts, but she waves her hand and his lips keep moving but no sound comes out.

He claps his mouth shut and grits his jaw in frustration, in shock - she has never used her magic on him like this.

“How dare you say that to me,” she growls.

Robin’s patience breaks, his confusion overwhelms him and he tries to speak, waves his hands angrily at her until she returns his voice and he bursts out, “Why the bloody hell not?!”

“Is this some twisted game to you?” she asks, her voice rising with her anger, “How can you say that to me when you’re ending things?”

 

He blinks.

 

 _He’s_ not ending things - he’s absolutely not - he starts to replay their conversation and his eyes suddenly widen.

  
He’s an idiot. A complete fucking muppet.

 

He thought **she** was breaking up with **him**.

And apparently she thought **he** was breaking up with **her**.

 

Fuuuuuuuuck.

 

They’ve been talking in parallel about different things - this is a misunderstanding - he reaches for her but she jerks back, twirls her wrists as he exclaims, “Wait!”

But he is too late - she is gone, and he is seriously, _seriously_ fucked.

 

 


	8. The Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotye [Feat. Kimbra] - Somebody That I Used To Know  
> Sarah McLachlan - Stupid  
> Mariah Carey - We Belong Together

 

 

Chapter Seven - The Routine 

  
The next morning, Robin does _not_ send John to collect Roland. It is not only his responsibility to pick up his son, who he misses dearly, but he’s also determined to somehow get a minute with Regina. He just wants long enough to set the record straight.

After she disappeared on him last night, Robin stayed in the clock tower and replayed their conversation over and over. He’s been so inside of his own head for the past week, was so selfish that he never even asked her what she was feeling about all this. He just assumed that she saw him the way he saw himself, but he should know better - it’s a conversation they’ve had often over the past few months - _What do you see in me_ \- and - _A second chance_ \- echoes loudly in his head as he hears himself tell her “I can’t” both last night and the week prior, and he suddenly understands her reaction, can practically see her conjuring emotional walls and assuming the worst.

Everything has gone pear-shaped again, but he’s going to fix it. He will. He’s going to fight for her, going to show her that they are alright after all the mess of the last few weeks, that they are good together, their feelings are _real,_ and he wants to be with her more than anything he has ever wanted in his entire life.

  


He expects she’ll put up a fight.

  


And he is not at all wrong.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  


When he shows up at her house at seven the next morning, freshly showered, scruff trimmed neatly and thoroughly cleaned up, he immediately sees the first obstacle she’s thrown at him.

Roland and Henry are dressed warmly in big coats, hats, and gloves, playing in the light snow that dusts her front yard. She expects to avoid the interaction entirely, it seems, but he just can't allow it.

He strides quickly up to the boys and Roland comes running, anxious for his papa and Robin spends several minutes loving on him and talking with Henry, who looks slightly suspicious of him yet again.

“Where’s your mum this morning?” Robin asks the older boy, and Henry tilts his head.

“She’s inside,” he says lightly, “but she has a headache - told us to play outside until you got here.” Henry frowns at him, asks bluntly, “What’dja do this time?”

Robin cracks a smile at Henry - the boy is nothing if not straightforward. “I said something stupid, made an assumption that led to a rather unfortunate misunderstanding.” He chews his lip a little guiltily and Henry looks thoughtful.

“Well, she’s probably not going to let you in,” he says simply, and Robin nods, almost rolls his eyes at the obviousness of Henry’s statement, but then the boy surprises him - “But…” he hesitates, and Robin likes where this is going - Henry has a devious streak a mile wide that he likes to pretend he didn’t inherit from Regina. “When she has a headache, she likes it cold in her room and she usually cracks one of her bedroom windows. There’s a chance that it's open, or that she might have forgotten to lock it, but even if it is locked, well, you _are_ Robin Hood,” he smirks.

Robin could kiss the boy - ruffles his hair instead and thanks him. He asks the boys to keep playing while he checks things out, and then he disappears around the back of the house.

Now that he’s been in her bedroom before, Robin knows which windows are hers. He doesn’t exactly _want_ to break into her house, isn’t thrilled about invading her space without an invitation, and there is the chance that she will kill him for it, but he agrees with Henry. Regina’s never going to let him past the front door otherwise and he’s got important things to say to her before they waste another second apart.

The back of her house is easy to climb - there’s an ivy trellis running almost all the way up to the bedroom windows and he makes a note to talk to her about how unsafe that really is another time. _This_ time it works to his advantage as he easily treks up and checks the window. It is mercifully, blissfully, unlocked.

He peeks through the glass to make sure he isn’t catching her in a state of undress, sees that the television and several lights are on and he smirks - _headache his arse_ \- she’s such a bloody liar. The door to her en suite is closed and she’s nowhere in sight, so Robin takes the opportunity to slide the window up, slithers through quickly on his belly, and has just stood up when the bathroom door opens and she freezes in the frame of it.

She’s in a large, puffy white bathrobe, black hair still dripping and waving prettily from her bath, with her toothbrush sticking out of her mouth as she stares at him in surprise.

 

Then she narrows her eyes.

 

He knows he’s got about one second before she chucks him out the window, so he cuts through everything and blurts frantically, “I wasn’t breaking up with you!-”

She squints a little and picks up brushing her teeth again.

Robin thanks the merciful gods above that she has that brush in her mouth - it’s saving his arse right now as he comes up with something better to say.

“I thought _you_ were ending it with _me,_ ” he says quickly, and she raises an eyebrow as she moves the toothbrush to the other side of her mouth. “I’m sorry for how I’ve acted the past week- the past several weeks - I’ve been a complete git - I was so confused and ashamed and I've been utterly selfish and I’m so sorry, Regina, please, just let me try again. Give me a chance to make this right.”

Her hand stops moving and he sees her chest rise as she takes a deep breath. She turns from him and walks back into the bathroom, but she doesn’t close the door so he takes that as a good sign, scrubs his hands over his face and fidgets nervously as he hears the sink running.

She returns a few seconds later and he opens his mouth to speak but she holds up her hand, and he stops. Her voice is quiet, unfriendly and low as she asks him, “Tell me _Robin Hood_ , how is breaking into my house, into my _bedroom_ supposed to win my trust?”

 

Fuck.

 

“I needed to speak with you,” he pleads, “You’d have never let me in on your own and we both know it.”

“So you took away my choice?” she asks hotly, temper rising. “When is this going to be about what _I_ need, Robin?”

 

Fuck fuck fuck.

 

“I’ve cocked this all up - _I know_ \- I was humiliated, and embarrassed, and I should have leaned on you for support but I couldn't bear your disappointment - I'm a bloody coward and I couldn't face you.” He stops, raw with his confessions and she's staring hard at him. “But I wanted to tell you, wanted you to know that I would never, _ever_ walk away from us. I meant what I said in the vault - and I know I'm not much, but if you still want that, you still want us, you need only tell me,” he steps back toward the window, pulls the frame up and turns back to her. “I’ll wait the rest of my life for the whisper of a chance with you, darling.”

Her jaw clenches and her brows are furrowed with the emotion he can see she’s holding back. Her voice is hoarse, thick as she says, “I was never disappointed in you.”

That's all she says and he's not sure where to go from here, can't believe how royally he has fucked this up. He doesn't know what she wants, and she’s right - he shouldn’t have intruded on her. So he swings his legs out the window, twists around and climbs back down to safety.

As he collects Roland and thanks Henry, Robin thinks over their short conversation and has a flicker of hope in his chest - because _technically_ she didn’t throw him out, and she didn’t say _no_ either.

  


 

* * *

 

  


The next day Robin takes Roland up to the diner for breakfast. It’s a little tradition they had started with the Mills family back before things went barmy - the four of them would occupy the furthest booth at the back and discuss the day ahead - what Henry was learning in school, what steps Robin must take to enroll Roland in something called “Kinder-garten” now that it appears they’re staying in Storybrooke.

Things have been quiet in town since the Wicked Witch was cast out and the Snow Queen defeated, and although there always seem to be threats looming, nothing is pressing right now.

When they get to the diner, Regina and Henry are already there at their usual table. Robin has a new plan today, wants to show her that he can be respectful of her space - that he will keep his distance if that’s what she wants - so he sends Roland to join them and he instead takes a seat at the bar.

He watches quietly, smiles as Regina greets Roland, kisses his little face and pulls his winter hat off as he climbs into the booth next to her. Her back is to him and he sees her stiffen, awaiting Robin’s approach, no doubt, and he wishes that weren’t the case, wishes he could go back to when her posture asked him to come closer, not to stay away. On the opposite side of the booth, Henry waves to him and he nods at the boy, but Granny interrupts the exchange to ask for his order. He gets his usual - coffee with cream and an order of apple pancakes for Roland - while the old woman scrutinizes him over her glasses, casting a knowing glance at the table he is so purposefully not sitting at.

She brings him his coffee a few minutes later, frowning at him, and suddenly he feels like he’s failed her too.

He sips at his hot drink slowly and tries not to glance too much at the three people he wishes he was sitting with, but it’s mostly in vain. His gaze is constantly drawn to her, to _them_ \- and he catches himself staring the second he lets his guard down. He’s got to get it together better than this - has to show her he can give her time, but it’s much, much harder than he expected.

 

 

* * *

 

  


They repeat this new routine for the next two weeks and he’s slowly getting used to it, at being excluded from what he considers to be his _own_ _family_. He doesn’t mind, really - it makes Roland happy and Henry and Regina too, it seems, judging from the big smiles both boys are wearing and the receding stiffness in Regina’s posture every day when they all part ways. Henry goes off to school, Regina to work, Roland and Robin back to the forest to help around camp and do the things he’s supposed to be doing as the leader of the Merry Men.

 

But on this day, Friday, things change.

 

On Friday Robin orders his coffee as usual and a waffle with apple slices for Roland - that boy is obsessed with apples lately - but when Ruby brings the order out she takes it all directly to the table with Regina and the boys. Robin protests, tries to correct her, but suddenly both she and Granny act as if they can’t hear him, and then Granny disappears into the kitchen as Ruby moves to take orders at a table near the front of the diner.

 

Robin’s jaw drops open in shock. They have _got_ to be kidding.

 

He can see Regina is staring at his mug of coffee, and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do. He considers going over to get it, but doesn’t want to intrude, doesn’t want to scare her off - but he really wants his coffee. Perhaps it’s best if he just orders another cup.

That’s the plan he decides on, but when Granny returns and he tries to order again, she stares pointedly at his abandoned drink at Regina’s table and states bluntly that he already has a full cup and ought to go and drink it.

 

Well then.

 

He scowls at Granny, at her meddling in a situation that she has no business in, and he obstinately sits at the bar as his coffee goes cold on the table across the restaurant.

He’s in a bad mood the rest of the day for it, and his temper doesn’t improve at all as he doesn’t have the opportunity to see Regina or Henry for the rest of the entire weekend.

 

 

* * *

  


 

Monday comes and the Locksley men head up to the diner per usual, where Robin again assumes his seat at the bar. He orders for Roland and himself, sending a good warning glare at Granny as she goes off to get him his mug, but the old dog pulls the same stunt as last week and drops his cup off at Regina’s table. Robin drops his head into his hands.

He’s trying so hard to do the right thing, to let Regina decide where their relationship goes next, and after two whole weeks of almost no communication, he’s pretty sure he knows where it’s headed.

 

Amidst the tragedy that this situation is quickly becoming, all he _bloody fucking wants_ is one _bloody fucking cup_ of _bloody fucking coffee_.

 

There is a heavy clunk on the counter next to him and he pulls his head up immediately, sees his coffee mug in front of him and just barely catches the vision of Regina’s glorious backside as she returns to her table, shooting a vicious glare at Granny as she goes.

She is such a merciful woman.

  


And so _this_ becomes their new routine.

  


Every morning, Granny or Ruby stubbornly delivers his coffee to the queen's table, and every morning, Regina stomps it over to him and stares daggers at the two wolves.

By Friday Robin is at the end of his rope. Every time she brings the mug over to him he catches the scent of her perfume, gets to see her beautiful, smooth fingers wrapped around the handle of the hot cup, gets to be within two feet of her perfect skin and soft dark hair and it makes him positively _ache_ for her.

Today when she brings the mug over, he can’t stand it anymore, so he takes a gamble. As she sets the cup down he grabs her hand swiftly, kisses her knuckles and immediately lets go as he mutters, “Thank you, Milady.” She slows her retreat a little with his actions, and she doesn’t jerk away, but she does head resolutely back to her table without a word.

Baby steps, he thinks. This is progress. It _has_ to be, because he can’t stomach the thought of anything else.

He drinks his coffee quickly as Henry and Roland crack up in the booth, pushing each other around a little, and he wishes he was a part of the joke, wishes he could laugh and goof off with them, could hold Regina’s hand while he does it.

Something has to change soon. It’s been over three weeks and every day it feels like he’s dying without her.

Roland comes over to him when they all get up to leave, and as Robin helps him zip his thick little jacket and get his hat on straight, he has a thought and decides to go for it, why not gamble again when the first try seemed to go alright?

The four of them step outside as he holds the door for them - the boys pass by him first, and as Regina steps through he asks her softly, “Wait a moment?”

She inhales a little sharply but nods, and they send Henry off to school and Roland back into the diner with a few dollars to buy another take-away apple spice muffin before they address each other.

He’s nervous as he turns to her and she’s looking right at him, not shying from him at all as he rubs the back of his neck.

“How are you?” he asks softly. His eyes run the elegant lines of her face, take in the brilliant color of her dark chocolate eyes as she shifts a little, pulls her gloves ( _not_ mittens) on tighter.

“I’m fine,” she says, but her brows furrow and she frowns as she studies him. She does not ask him how he is.

“Tomorrow I’m taking Roland to the park to see the ice sculptures,” he says quickly. “At six o’clock. We’ll probably be there for an hour or so, unless Roland gets cold, but he really wants to see it, it’s supposed to be lit up at night, and there’s hot cocoa, so if you’re free you know, if you and Henry are around and you want…” he trails off, hears himself rambling idiotically but she isn’t saying a word so he just keeps prattling on, “It’s supposed to be quite beautiful actually, the sculptures that is, and a nice day too -” He stops abruptly. Wishes someone would shoot him and put him out of his misery.

She looks away from him, glancing up the street and squinting as if she sees something of great interest, and his heart feels like it’s going to pound right out of his chest. He wishes it would. Wishes it would push right through is sternum and throw itself at her feet. He wonders what she would do with it if it did.

The door to the diner opens and Roland barrels through with his little white pastry sack, and Robin is certain there is more than just one muffin in there, but he doesn’t mind, Roland is a good lad, deserves an extra treat once in awhile. He smiles deviously at his son, says, “How many did you nick today?”

Roland looks around with exaggerated suspicion, leans in close to Robin and whispers loudly, “Two!” then giggles loudly at his own thievery.

Robin laughs too, pulls a napkin wrapped muffin from his jacket and says, “I only got the one - you win this round, my boy,” and Roland jumps up and down excitedly, his pastry bag flapping wildly in his little hand as he celebrates his victory. Robin looks to Regina and she’s frowning at them, and all he can say as he laughs is, “You knew I was a thief when you met me,” and suddenly her frown changes a little, _almost_ becomes an amused smirk as she looks away.

“As the Mayor I’m going to pretend I didn’t see any of this,” she says quickly, but there is a hint of playfulness in her tone that Robin hasn’t heard in forever.

He steps into her space out of habit, drops his head down, his lips close to her ear as he grins and says quietly so Roland doesn’t overhear, “Then _as the Mayor_ you should know that I tip Granny generously for the pastries she _knows_ we pilfer.”

She laughs softly and the sound feeds his soul - he lingers next to her, knows he should step back but can’t quite do it after such a long absence from her. It seems Regina can’t help it either - she leans in a little closer to him in the brisk morning air, their chests are only a few inches apart now, and she tilts her face in close to the crook of his neck. For a few quiet moments they just stand there, completely wrapped up in each other without even touching, and when he looks at her pretty face, her eyes are closed and her brow is furrowed as if she’s concentrating hard. The pretty scar on her top lip is standing out a little as she purses her lips, and he’d sell his soul in a second to be allowed to kiss it right now.

He knows he can’t kiss her - _knows_ that that would be a mistake, but he’s only so strong and he can’t resist her when she’s this close - so close that a few loose strands of her hair tickle his face in the morning breeze. He brings his hand up and strokes the backs of his warm fingers across the curve of her cheek, tucks her thick hair behind her ear, then slides his fingers underneath and cups the side of her neck. She goes very, very still against his soft touch, and he’s so nervous, doesn’t know if he’s pushing in the right direction or the wrong one, so he strokes his thumb gently across her jawline once, twice, then reluctantly pulls his hand away and steps back.

She takes a deep breath when he goes, opens her eyes and pins him with this look he can't quite interpret, so he panics a little, repeats, “Six o’clock. Tomorrow,” but she just stares at him, doesn’t give him a yes or no. He bites his lips and nods, wishes so badly he could hug her, could kiss the top of her head, but instead he takes up Roland’s hand and they head back to the forest, leaving the Mayor to stand by herself in front of Granny’s Diner.

 

 


	9. The Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady Gaga - Is That Alright?  
> Adele - One And Only  
> Sia - Fire Meet Gasoline

 

 

Chapter Eight - The Chance 

  


Robin and Roland arrive in the park at ten to six, and he’s honestly never been more nervous in his entire life. His son has been an absolute angel all day, and they’ve had such a good day up to this point that he feels reluctant to ruin it - knows that if she doesn’t show, in spite of his best efforts, his mood will be sullied.

He’s got Roland bundled up in just about every article of warm clothing he could procure - doesn’t want there to be a chance that he gets cold tonight, wants it to last as long as possible, whether Regina shows up or not. Neither of the Locksley men have ever seen something quite like this - and it really is a beautiful sight.

There are over a dozen sparkling sculptures that Robin can see from the entrance, and there are bright lights illuminating them as the sun sinks further and bathes the park in darkness. He checks his watch for the hundredth time - it’s two minutes ‘til and he’s even more antsy, can’t quite stand still. Suddenly Roland shouts, “Henry!” and Robin snaps his head up to see the older boy striding quickly toward them with a big smile on his face.

  


But Henry is alone.

  


Robin can’t quite stop himself from frowning, tries to hide it and pulls Henry into a one armed hug when he finally reaches them. Roland is bouncing up and down already, telling Henry how _excited_ he is, and to _look at his two pairs of gloves_ he’s wearing, and asking him which _scup-cher_ he wants to see first. Henry points to something large on the far side of the park and Roland agrees exuberantly, says that’s the one _he_ wanted to see first too, and the three of them are off before Robin has a chance to ask Henry where is mother is.

Despite Regina’s absence, Robin is actually having quite a nice time with the boys. They walk around and around the park, see each sculpture at least three times and all get huge steaming cups of hot chocolate to warm up with. There is a decent sized ice skating pond at the center of the exhibits, and Henry tells him that Regina conjured over a hundred pairs of ice skates for everyone to use. Robin has no idea how anyone can possibly walk on shoes with blades on the bottoms of them, but Roland wants to try and Henry is apparently competent at it and volunteers to go with him. Robin is grateful - the last thing he wants to do today is wind up on his arse on a frozen puddle with knives strapped to his feet - he's likely to cut off a foot, or worse. The boys hand him their empty styrofoam cups and he takes up a free park bench nearby to drink his cocoa and watch as the boys fall all over each other as they wobble and attempt to glide.

It’s hilarious, and Robin can’t help the grin, can’t stop the soft chuckles as he watches them try to spin and glide on one foot, haphazardly wiping out on the ice every time. He worries for a second about broken arms, bumped heads, and split lips that might result from their antics, but reins himself in - he did much more daring, ridiculous things when he was their ages, and he doubts the boys will ever gain enough momentum to actually encounter any danger out there anyway.

He shifts automatically as someone sits down next to him on the bench, and it takes him a second to greet them because he’s wiping tears of laughter from his eyes as Roland does a belly flop slide across the ice like a bear.

When he finally does turn, he’s a little startled.

  


It’s Snow White.

  


Robin furrows his brow but greets her kindly with a soft, “Hello.”

She gives him that sweet, sad smile she always seems to wear and apologizes for interrupting him. She comments on the boys and the fun they’re having, and they have an amicable enough conversation for a few minutes.

“My apologies for my behavior the last time we met,” he says quietly. And he truly is sorry - the things he said were cruel, _true_ , but still, he did not act appropriately and he feels poorly about it.

Snow is quick to forgive. “Oh, it’s okay,” she says sweetly, “We shouldn’t have ambushed you. We didn’t realize what a hard time you were having.”

Robin huffs a little, says, “Hard time is quite an understatement.”

“I’m sorry David pushed you,” she says quickly, quietly. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

Robin nods, appreciates the sentiment. “I apologize for punching him,” he says, and then, “You were right to call Regina that night.”

Snow gives him another sweet smile and nods. “How’s that going?”

Robin rubs his forehead with his gloved hand, confesses, “Not well, I’m afraid.”

She says simply, “I thought as much.”

Robin watches the boys for another minute as he contemplates this strange conversation with Snow. He’s honestly never really spoken with her, has mostly avoided her due to his relationship with Regina - not on purpose, of course - but because the two women tend to give one another a wide berth. He supposes that’s for the best.

“I was wondering, and feel free to say no,” she says, “but I was wondering if Henry and Roland would like to go to Granny’s with David and me for dinner.”

Robin is a little confused, notices his lack of invitation but doesn’t worry over it. “That’s alright with me, as long as Henry doesn’t have to get back soon. I’m not sure how long he’s allowed to stay tonight.”

Snow smiles at him again and it feels just a touch like pity. “Actually, I asked Regina and she said he can stay until nine.”

Robin shrugs his agreement, doesn’t see any issue with it.

Snow reaches out, asks him to hold her full, steaming cup of cocoa as she stands and calls to the boys. When Robin attempts to hand it back to her, she smiles as she shakes her head and says, “She’ll say she doesn’t want it, but trust me, she does.” Robin is thoroughly confused as Snow heads over, helps the boys get back into their boots, and walks off with them in the direction of the diner.

 

Robin sits on the bench like an idiot for a few minutes, unsure what the hell Snow was talking about, but then there is the crunch of footsteps nearby and when he turns his head, he almost dies with relief.

 

_Regina._

 

His eyes wash over her before he can help it, and she is devastatingly beautiful this evening. She’s in all black - knee high boots, thick leggings, leather gloves, a long tailored wool coat that is trimmed with soft gray fur, and a wide brimmed hat to match. A white cashmere scarf peeks out from between the lapels of her coat and he wishes he knew what was under it. The white reminds him of the clock tower, the dark red of her lipstick is the color of the apples that grow on her favorite tree, and he has to look away when he catches his mouth watering.

Jesus.

She could have had a tiny bit of mercy on him tonight, could have dressed just a little less regal. Her skin isn’t exposed at all but he feels like he could melt right through the park bench with his attraction to her.

“Good evening,” she says quietly as she takes the seat next to him.

“Same to you, Milady,” he returns, still a little shocked she is there at all.

She stares off toward the frozen pond and Robin pulls himself together.

“It seems I’ve two cups of cocoa, would you care for one?” he says, feeling stupid.

She turns her face back to his and looks at him like he might have lost his mind as she tells him no, then she returns her gaze to the ice skaters.

And now he’s stuck here with two cocoa mugs ( _damnit, Snow_ ) and no idea what the hell to say to her. He goes with, “I’m glad you’re here,” as he stares intently at her profile. _Christ_ she’s pretty.

“Why _am_ I here?” she asks softly, almost to herself.

He’s not sure how to respond, thinks for a moment, shrugs and says simply, “I’m grateful that you are.”

She pulls in a deep breath and sighs, the warm air puffing out in a cloud in front of her. “What are we doing, Robin?” she asks, her voice strained as she turns and brings her conflicted eyes to his.

He wishes he knew. “Starting over?” he asks, selfishly hopeful. Her finely arched brows furrow and he corrects himself, “What do _you_ want to do, darling? I only want you to be happy - I’ll do whatever it is that will achieve that end.” He wants to hold her hand but can’t, he’s still got these two stupid cups of cocoa. He’s going to kill Snow White.

“I don’t know what I want,” she says quietly, earnestly. “This has been so difficult and I…” she trails off, her eyes dark and serious under the park lights, “It shouldn’t be this hard, should it?”

Robin leans in toward her, shifts so he’s facing her fully as they lock eyes. He asks, “Can you tell me _what_ was difficult - was it the love we shared, or was it the circumstances that plagued us?”

She tilts her head at him. Her eyes are soft and sad in the dim light. “The circumstances.”

He’s relieved. There is hope here - he can feel it. “You and I both know that the best things in life aren’t given freely, sometimes you’ve got to fight - you’ve got to bleed for them.”

Regina nods, gives him a flicker of a soft, thoughtful smile. He pauses, fights back his emotions as his throat burns.

Her eyes are suddenly wet, her jaw set as she glances away and he hates this - hates that she’s at war with herself. He knows she’s unsure, he’s given her good reason to be, but he has learned from his mistakes - he knows what to do now, would give _anything_ to show her that he can make this right.

“Let me _fight_ for you,” he whispers.

Her eyes come back to his and she brings her gloved hand up, strokes the side of his jaw.

“Let me _fight_ , Regina,” he says again, almost pleading as he presses his cheek into her palm.

“I want to,” she admits, her voice so, so quiet in her admission.

“This is _real_ ,” he says, swallows hard against the lump in his throat.

Her eyes are beautiful, so intense on him. When she looks at him like this he feels like he could catch on fire.

“Let me _fight_ ,” he repeats, leans in and presses his forehead to hers. Her hand wraps around the back of his neck and he could cry, feels like his love for her is splitting his chest apart as he awaits her decision.

They stay this way for a few moments and her fingers rub softly against the back of his neck as the world narrows down to just the two of them. She tilts her chin up and brushes the softest, lightest kiss against his lips, and his breath catches at her sweet action. He has no words for how much he loves her, is praying that she will allow him this, will give them another chance.

She pulls back then, drops her hand from his neck and says quietly, “I can't make any promises, Robin - this is so… complicated and I… I don't know how to love very well.”

“Regina, you are full of love,” he argues softly, honestly. “I see it every morning when you laugh with our sons over breakfast, every day that you work as Mayor to make this town a better place, every time you put yourself on the line to protect the people around you, and at one time... I saw it every time you looked at me.”

She ducks her head in that sweet way he loves about her - so unused to being praised that it breaks his heart.

“I know I’ve made a mess of everything,” he says, “I've been trying to work through it so I can be that man you used to see.” He swallows thickly, his throat tight. “Do you think you could ever look at me that way again?” he whispers, terrified.

Her eyes are intense as she brings them to his, gives him this look of astonishment as she says, “I never stopped, Robin.”

He can’t stop his eyes from watering, the relief washing over his face as she confesses this, and he is happy, the happiest he has been in weeks at the mere chance to love her again. She still looks worried, looks nervous, but he’ll work on that, he’ll get her through that. She takes a deep breath as he nods, and then she surprises him as she reaches for the tepid cup of cocoa in his right hand.

She takes a large swig of the rich drink, and Robin sweeps his gaze over her, appreciates the way her eyes close in pleasure as she swallows the thick liquid. He wants to kiss her throat. Wants to lick the chocolate from her lips.

 

He owes Snow White a thank you.

 

They sit quietly together for a while, enjoying the cold evening and snickering when the ice skaters fall down. She lets him hold her gloved hand in his, and though it is a small action, his life suddenly feels like it's heading in the right direction again.

 

 


	10. Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adele - I’ll Be Waiting

 

 

Chapter Nine - Monday 

 

 

Monday comes and Robin has no idea where he’s supposed to sit.

He and Roland get to the diner at their usual time, but they arrive before Regina and Henry and Robin is faced with a tough decision - does he stay at the bar, or re-invite himself to their table? He decides to play it safe, takes up his spot at the counter and sends Roland over to the table, and the Mills duo arrives shortly thereafter.

Robin places his order with Ruby, which earns him an exasperated look, and he scowls after her - this whole bloody town is ridiculous in their meddling. When she predictably delivers his cup to Regina’s table, he looks up finally and has a happy surprise. Regina has switched sides in the booth today, sitting with Roland, so that she and Robin are facing each other a mere fifteen feet apart.

He catches her eye as Ruby moves on, and she gives him a small smile, lifts one eyebrow at him and then turns back to the boys. He wants to go over there, wants to sit with them but wants her to decide that, so he holds steady, glances longingly at his coffee mug. She has her hair pulled up today - the high, sleek ponytail shows off the long column of her neck and makes Robin more than a little weak-kneed. He wants to wrap his hand around her thickly gathered hair, wants to tug on it while he -

She stands up, his coffee cup in hand, and catches him gawking. He immediately cracks a guilty grin - she’s caught him fair and square, no use denying it - and she smiles knowingly at him, so he lets his gaze rake down her - over her low cut dark purple blouse offset by light gray blazer and slacks, and his mouth goes a little dry. Even in completely appropriate work attire, she’s sexy as hell.

She brings his coffee mug over, and when she goes to set it down he reaches out for it, lets his fingers brush purposefully against hers as he takes it. He lets his eyes sweep hotly over her again, inhaling her perfume as he says, “Thank you very, _very_ much, Your Majesty,” his double meaning evident.

She looks him over, smiles as she says quietly, “The pleasure is mine, I’m sure.” Then she returns to the booth with their sons, and he smirks the rest of his way through his coffee as their eyes continue to meet, again and again, throughout breakfast.

When it’s time to go, Robin yanks his coat on and strides quickly to the booth as Regina turns her back to him, readying to shrug into her own warm jacket. When she swings it around behind her, he is there - takes it and holds it carefully for her, pulls it up gently as her arms slide through and he fixes the collar for her. He leans in next to her ear, whispers, “My god your hair is sexy like this,” and he sees her grin for just a second before she turns and heads for the door, the boys already halfway to it.

Robin smiles to himself, runs his hand over his jaw and follows them out - if he can make her smile like that at least once a day, then every day will be a good day from here on out.

 

 


	11. Tuesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nick Jonas [Feat. Tove Lo] - Close

 

 

Chapter Ten - Tuesday 

 

Breakfast at the diner is quickly becoming Robin’s most favorite part of the day. He gets to see her there, even got her to smile yesterday, and thought all night about what she might allow today. He’s restless with anticipation as he sits at the bar, waiting for Granny to deliver his coffee to Regina - excited to see what she will allow him next.

She’s taken the same spot at the table as the day before, and he lets himself stare at her, at their boys and doesn’t feel a smidge bad about it. It’s where he wants to be, and he wants her to know without a doubt that that is all he can think about. Their sons are giggling foolishly as Regina helps Roland unroll his silverware from his napkin, and when they laugh particularly loud, she glances up immediately at Robin, grinning.

He beams back at her, knowing exactly how she feels - the sound of the boys’ laughter is absolutely the most heartwarming sound in all the realms, and he loves that they get along so well. Like they were _meant_ to be brothers.

His eyes grow serious on hers, and he’s pretty sure his longing for her is showing on his sleeve. He feels a little foolish, has always been a bit of a romantic but with her - _Christ_ \- he can’t stop picturing them all together as one happy family - with her at the center of it.

 

Because she is _everything_.

 

Granny breaks his eyeline as she sets his coffee down in front of Regina, and the queen is nearly on her feet before Granny is at the next table.

She comes to him, confidence in her stride and he swivels on his stool to greet her. When she gets close she slides in next to him, leans her hip against the bar ledge, stepping forward so she’s just barely standing between his spread knees. She’s so close to him he has to look up a little at her, and he _likes_ this - likes having her hover over him in the tight space between his bar stool and the next. She smiles at him, says, “Good morning, Thief,” as she raises his coffee mug and takes a sip.

He’s not even sure she means it to be sexy but he almost groans, because it makes him think of her saying that to him _every_ morning - in her bed, or in her shower, or - _fuck -_ in **her** \- and now he’s going to get to put his lips where hers were, and he’s not going to be able to _not_ think about that.

She hands him his coffee directly instead of placing it on the counter, and when he turns it in his hand he sees that she has left a dark red lipstick mark across the white rim. His cock twitches at the sight and he could laugh at his own eagerness - she’s only said three words to him.

He keeps eye contact with her as he purses his lips and replies, “It most certainly is, Milady.” He holds her gaze as he rotates the coffee mug, tips it up and places his lips purposefully over her lipstick mark as he takes a large swallow.

When he sets the mug on the counter top, she smirks at him as she tilts her head. When her eyes land on his lips the corners of her eyes crinkle just a little bit more, and she’s just so pretty sometimes it hurts.

She reaches for him, brings her hand up and smooths her thumb slowly across his bottom lip - his cock jumps to attention - and when she pulls back he sees the red from where her lipstick transferred to him. She sucks her thumb into her mouth and he moans quietly, stares at her mouth as she slides her thumb back out and leans conspiratorially into him as she makes this sexy, low _hmmm_ in her throat and says, “That color really looks better on me.”

She pouts her full, painted lips at him, gives him this hot little knowing look and turns to go back to her table. He snatches her wrist, pulls her hand to his lips quickly and murmurs, “Everything looks better on you, darling.”  

She gives him a beautiful, luminous smile and pulls away, goes back to the boys and they spend the rest of breakfast making eyes at each other like pre-teens in love.

 

When he pays his bill, Granny gives him the biggest eye roll he has ever seen as she says sarcastically, “Took you long enough,” but she stuffs an extra muffin into Roland’s take-away sack, and as he walks off he catches the satisfied smile that crosses her wrinkled face.

He doesn’t feel like such a failure anymore, and he smiles a little, knows he can attribute it entirely to the beautiful queen who is letting him fight for her.

 

 


	12. Wednesday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Chainsmokers [Feat. ROZES] - Roses

 

 

Chapter Eleven - Wednesday 

  


Robin is a bit late to the diner on Wednesday morning - Roland was having a fit about which socks he preferred, even though the two pairs in question were exact duplicates, so it took a little longer to leave camp than usual.

When he arrives, he lets Roland jog ahead, and his boy full out runs to the booth, throws himself in next to Regina, kneels on the seat and wraps his arms around her neck. Robin watches them closely as Roland rubs his nose against Regina’s and her eyes crinkle with the sweet smile she gives him, before grabbing the little boy by the lapels of his coat and kissing his face all over. Roland squeals and giggles madly as she loves him up, and Robin laughs softly as he watches it all happen from ten feet away.

Regina unzips Roland’s jacket and as she helps him shrug out of it, her gaze falls on Robin. He gives her a little smile and a nod, and she smiles back at him, then tilts her head in the direction of their booth.

Robin’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline in surprise. Surely she can’t mean - but she gives him this expectant look and raises her own brows - and he’s certainly not going to argue this with her, so he moves quickly to the booth, shucks his coat and slides in.

He’s still grinning at her when Henry returns from the bathroom and slides in next to him, greeting him with a boisterous “Hey, Robin!” as he launches into his latest story about a girl - Robin is certain Henry's taken a fancy to - at school.

Robin settles into the booth across from Regina and basks in the chatter and antics of the boys, in the beauty of the woman across from him, in the convenience of having his coffee delivered to _him_ this morning.

He decides that this is a great day - getting to sit here with her and see her natural radiance up close, getting to listen to Henry’s funny stories, getting to watch as Roland steals apple slices from her plate when she’s not looking - it’s a bloody good day.

There is a light touch against the top of his foot, and he slides it over, apologizes to her for the accidental contact even though he hadn’t moved and it was obviously her mistake. She catches his eye, winks - _fucking winks at him_ \- and there is another touch against his foot as she slides hers along the side of his and hooks it behind his ankle.

Robin just about chokes on the swig of coffee he just took.

  


So it’s like that, is it?

  


He slowly, discreetly slides his back down the booth a few inches, extends his legs toward hers until they are tangled together under the table. Her shoes are off, he knows that much as she slips her stocking covered toes part way up the cuff of his pant leg, then circles around and slides up and down the back of his calf. Robin’s heart is hammering so hard he feels dizzy. She hasn’t flirted with him like this since before the Marian debacle, and it feels amazing - _she’s_ amazing, and inappropriate, and it’s so hot he could literally fuck her right now.

Their eyes are locked on each other as the boys push their food around and switch plates and discuss some cartoon Robin knows nothing about - and to be honest, if they asked him a question about any of it he wouldn’t be able to answer them. Because now the arch of Regina’s foot is sliding up the inside of his calf, up, and up, and up - and he curses his stupid boots because there is nothing he can do to get out of them to be able to touch her back.

Her foot reaches the inside of his knee, and then - _fucking Christ_ \- she continues upward and now she’s stroking his inner thigh and she’s _this close_ to his cock. The booth is small and her legs are long - she’s got him half hard already and he can’t stop staring at her mouth, at the smile lines at her eyes, as she secretly touches him.

At some point his mouth has dropped open, and he takes a breath - swallows thickly - watching her intently as she runs her eyes over him. He’s warm, much too warm, wishes he had her naked on him right now, wishes he could take her into the diner loo and fuck her against the wall like her hot, dark eyes are telling him to do.

Henry asks her something then and Robin drops his hand below the table, grabs a hold of her foot just as she’s about to pull it back. He holds her firmly by the ankle, won’t let her pull away as she answers Henry, and he strokes his thumb around the sharp bone above her arch. She licks her lips and her eyes slide back to him when Henry and Roland go back to talking, and when he’s sure she’s not going to pull away, he slides his fingers over the top of her foot, strokes back and forth over her arch, then presses his thumb against the ball of her foot and rubs small, firm circles against it - his intention for another sensitive part of her body blatant in his actions.

She slides her foot against his inner thigh again as he rubs those little circles against her, and she’s so gorgeous, so sexy across from him as she stares at his mouth, licks her lips and drags her perfect white teeth across her full bottom lip.

  


He’s going to come in his pants if she keeps that shite up.

  


Henry stands then, and the action startles both Robin and Regina out of their outrageous game of flirtation as the boy grabs his coat and asks if they’re ready to go.

And all poor Robin can think is _Noooooooooo_.

Regina checks her phone and frowns, agrees that they better get moving and they all pack up their things, shrug back into their coats and hats and exit the diner as a group.

Henry falls back next to Robin as they go, and the boy tugs his sleeve, whispers to him, “I don’t know how you did it, but it looks like you’re forgiven,” gives him a congratulatory smile and then walks up to hug his mother goodbye before he heads off for school.

She’s standing just in front of him as Roland twirls around on the sidewalk, trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue, and she steps back, bumps into him a little and without so much as looking at him, discretely slides her hand across his tented groin.

His breath rushes out and he could fall to his knees with the arousal she stirs in him.

She turns, steps in close as she smirks with her victory and drops her voice as she sighs, “I hope your day is shaping _up_ to be… satisfying, Thief.” Then she struts off in the direction of city hall, the sway of her perfect arse teasing him the whole way as he stares after her and tries to calm his completely _unsatisfied_ erection.

 

 


	13. Thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taylor Swift - I Know Places  
> Demi Lovato - Sorry Not Sorry

 

 

Chapter Twelve - Thursday 

 

 

They are a solid fifteen minutes early to the diner, because Robin simply could not bear to wait one more second, couldn’t risk the chance of missing any time with her today. She’s got him in this constant state of curiosity and arousal and he can’t wait to see what is in store for them next.

As a responsible, mature, adult, he knows they can - should - only go so far with their little game - their sons are both within arms reach for god’s sake _and_ they happen to be in a public restaurant - but Robin has surrendered himself to the fact that when it comes right down to it, he will do whatever the fuck she wants.

 

Because that’s what _he_ wants.

 

It’s not that he doesn’t have a mind of his own. He does - he has lots of ideas that are purely his own, it’s just that anything that makes her happy, also makes _him_ happy, and that’s all he really cares about - making Regina, Roland and Henry happy and safe and provided for. He’s pretty sure that that is his purpose in this life, and the thought is extremely satisfying to him.

The little bell above the door rings and as Robin turns around in the booth to see if it’s her, his jaw damn near hits the table top.

 

She shouldn’t be allowed to dress like this.

 

It’s not bloody fair.

 

As she removes her coat she grins at him, and he could groan with desire - the dress is black with indigo sleeves and this hot little choker that wraps the circumference of her smooth neck, with a deep vee neckline that’s already making it impossible for him to not stare at her plump tits, and she’s wearing black stockings and those hot little boots she likes. His traitorous mind starts replaying the last time he saw her in those boots - the time he fucked her on all fours on the chaise, and he thinks he might actually pass out with the head rush he gets.

She slides into the booth next to him as she says her good morning, her hand stroking lightly down his bicep, and he immediately knows that his self restraint will be tested this morning.

The boys settle in and immediately start into their usual boisterous conversation, and for most of the meal the two adults are relatively well behaved.

 

Until they're not.

 

It starts innocently enough, the sides of their hands bump a little as they work on their breakfasts, her knee brushes his when she shifts to pass the syrup across to Roland - but then she makes this little _mmm_ of approval when she bites into her apple pancakes, Robin's eyes immediately drop to her ample cleavage, and he has to clench his fist to stop from reaching for her.

 

From there it is a slippery slope into debauchery.

 

Henry has brought some sort of electronic game device that he is showing to Roland, and while their attention is thoroughly distracted, Regina’s ankle wraps around the back of his.

A rush of anticipation runs up his spine and he has to try hard to quell the grin that’s trying to break through. He drops his hand from the table and carefully pulls her coat across their laps, then settles his hand beneath it on her knee, pulling the hem of her dress up just a bit to get against her stocking clad leg. She stiffens next to him, but doesn’t stop him as he squeezes her a little, running his hot palm up and down across her.

She turns toward him under the guise of reaching for a napkin, scoots a little closer, and - _oh god, fucking Christ_ \- she slides her gorgeous leg up and over the top of his as her left hand drops to his inner thigh to rest right on top of his cock.

 

Minx.

 

Bloody, fucking temptress.

 

He suddenly understands where the _evil_ moniker comes from.

 

She squeezes him lightly, presses down against him as she drops her head and looks sideways at him. Her dark red lips tempt him so hard, but he can’t, _knows_ he cannot kiss her here in front of everyone, not yet - not until she tells him to, so he slides his hand a little higher up her dress, hits the top of her stocking and strokes the bare skin of her sweet, warm inner thigh. Her hand clenches on him a little as he strokes her soft skin, swirls his fingers around and basks in the heat of her.

She rubs her palm firmly against him and he’s getting stiff by the second - she smells amazing, like apples and vanilla and something entirely her own that he’s completely addicted to. When the boys aren’t looking he leans in, slides his fingers up to lightly press against her lace covered center and whispers, “Miss being inside you so bad.”

Her shoulders curl forward a little and her eyes close for a second as he slides his fingers up and down her covered slit, then returns to the safety of her thigh. She squeezes him, starting to rub rhythmically over him through his pants, bringing him to full mast quickly beneath her hot fingers.

He’s focusing on breathing, trying hard not to give away his state of arousal too much, but he can tell she’s biting her cheek to keep from smiling and he’s a sucker for her happiness, so he lets this quiet whine slip out and she breaks - shows him her perfect white teeth as she grabs quickly for his coffee cup to cover it.

As she takes a big sip of his drink her hand stills on him, and he’s finally able to think for a second, so he swirls his fingers all over her inner thigh, digs his nails in a little and feels her shudder against him. The boys clamber up and out of the booth suddenly, off to wash their sticky hands so they stop contaminating the game-thing that Henry has, and Robin cannot help himself - knows he’s a sick bastard for it - she’s going to kill him - but it’s been weeks and weeks and he’s so hard and her hand is on him and she's practically in his lap and she smells so good, and before he can think better of it he slips two fingers past the lace covering her sex, rubs through her slick need and slides them right up into her.

Her breath hitches hard and her hand comes up fast - grabs his forearm in a vice-like grip as her head turns quickly and her wide eyes snap to his.  

 

He freezes.

 

In this moment, he is quite literally caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

 

And in spite of the surety of her punishment, he wants those fucking cookies.

 

She’s got this completely shocked, outraged expression on her face - he knows he’s gone too far, figures she’s about to kill him anyway so he just fucking goes for it - curls his fingers and pulses the pads of them against the soft, wet flesh inside of her as her fingernails dig into his arm.

“Are you fucking kidding me???” she hisses as she sits up straighter, her breath hitching harshly, internal muscles tightening on his fingers.

“You’re entirely too wet to pretend this isn’t exactly what you wanted,” he challenges quietly. Her eyes go a little wide, and as he looks pointedly straight down the front of her dress, her grip relaxes just a little.

He takes this as an admission of her guilt and starts rhythmically curling and pulsing his fingers inside her. Her grip slides from his arm back to his groin, and she squeezes him roughly, matches her pace with that of his fingers as her back arches a tiny bit. She’s pissed at him but obviously turned on, too, and all he can think is _Fuck yes_.

The sound of their sons laughing loudly as they come back from the bathroom jerks them out of the little fantasy they’ve been creating. He pulls his fingers from her rapidly, she shifts her leg off of his, and they sit there a little red-faced, trying not to look as guilty as they both know they are.

Henry mentions the time and Robin is thankful for the boy, is glad to get up and out of the booth before Regina either kills him or makes him come in his pants. The boys bundle up quickly and are out the door way ahead of the two slightly dazed adults, and Robin just finishes zipping his jacket when she steps in close and grabs his offending wrist harshly.

She brings his hand up to her face, inspecting his still slightly damp digits, and she locks eyes with him as she shoves his hand at him and commands, “Clean this up.”

His chest contracts with arousal - he imagines himself completely at her mercy as she stands over him, commands him to pleasure her, and he would gladly spend the rest of his life on his knees for her if she so much as hinted at it. _Christ._

He immediately does as she tells him. He glances around to make sure no one is looking, then slides his fingers into his mouth and sucks her sweet juices from them.

Her eyes are hot on him as she watches his mouth work, her brows furrowed and her jaw tight as he thoroughly licks them clean, and when he pulls his fingers out she grabs his hand and inspects it again.

“Well, well,” she drawls, every bit the Evil Queen as she strokes her fingers sensually across his, “You take orders quite well... for a thief,” she finishes hotly, then strides confidently out of the diner.

Robin has to lean on the backrest of the booth for a minute, his cock uncomfortably rigid and his whole body on fire with desire for her. He takes a few deep breaths, thinks un-sexy thoughts - how many arrows he can fire in a minute, Prince John’s stupid face, Snow White’s weird boyish haircut, until he finally is able to stand normally.

He collects himself and pulls his wallet out to pay, drops a few bills on the table as Granny comes breezing past, and as he turns to go she mutters nastily, “Queen or not, tomorrow I expect you two to remember this is a family establishment, Mr. Locksley.”

His stomach drops out in embarrassment as his ears heat, and all he can do is duck his head and mutter, “Yes ma'am,” as he flees.

 

 


	14. Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part One:  
> Ingrid Michaelson - Can’t Help Falling in Love  
> Sara Bareilles - Gravity
> 
> Part Two:  
> Meg Myers - Desire  
> Thirty Seconds to Mars - Dangerous Night
> 
> Part Three & Four:  
> Wanted - Hunter Hayes  
> Lady Gaga - The Cure

 

 

Chapter Thirteen - Friday 

 

 

Roland is sick this morning, and Robin is really quite worried. His son had started to cough yesterday evening, but what started as a tickle in his throat has rapidly progressed. Roland has a fever, and a deep, wet cough now, and the boy shivers beneath his heavy blankets and tells his father that his chest hurts.

Robin carries him into town at daybreak, growing more concerned by the minute, and he feels stupid, doesn't know if the hospital is the right place to take him or if there is another healer that he should go to. He arrives at Regina's house and rings the bell nervously - knows they still aren't technically together but as mayor she will at least be able to tell him what to do, who to see for medicine for his boy. She opens the door a few minutes after he rings, and the look of annoyance she wears as she tightens the belt of her housecoat immediately changes to concern as she sees them.

She steps back quickly, opening the door wide for them to enter as she clears her throat and asks, “What happened?”

“He's sick,” Robin says quietly, “he started with a cough last night but it's gotten so much worse, and he has a fever - I'm not sure where to take him, could only think to bring him here.”

With a wave of her hand she is suddenly dressed, makeup complete and hair smoothed back into a sleek ponytail as she says, “Take him upstairs to the room next to Henry's. I'll go get Whale.”

She doesn't give him time to respond, just disappears in a puff of smoke and he heads upstairs immediately, intent on tucking Roland in as she instructed.

She damn near beats him to the room upstairs - he's just turning back the blankets of the double bed when she reappears with Whale in tow, still dressed in his pajamas.

“Honestly, Regina,” Whale complains, but she jerks him around by the back of his shirt and shoves him at the bed as she sternly commands, “Do your job for once and diagnose this boy.”

Whale grumbles a bit more but moves to look over Roland as Robin hovers close behind. Whale uses strange instruments and presses them to Roland's chest, his back, looks down his throat with a small light, puts a glass stick in his mouth and after a few minutes announces his fever is one hundred and three, whatever that means.

“It's not pneumonia, not yet anyway,” the man says, “but his lungs are congested and his pyrexia is concerning, the sudden onset leads me to believe it's likely influenza.” He turns to Robin, “Have you had your vaccination?” Robin shakes his head no, doesn't know what that means so is sure they have not had it, and Whale continues, “We should start him on intravenous medicine and fluids as soon as possible.”

Robin doesn't know what most of that means and looks to Regina helplessly. Her face is serious as she meets his eyes, nods her agreement and he trusts her, knows her judgment is sound and she is so much more educated on this realm that he honestly needs her to make this decision, so he asks her flat out, “Regina, what do we do?”

Without hesitating she grabs Whale by the shirt again, and they disappear in a puff of smoke. Robin tucks Roland's little body into the bed, sits next to him and strokes his curls from his eyes as he whispers to him, tells him he's going to be just fine. Roland is sleepy between coughs, and Robin can do nothing but watch nervously as his son ails.

There is a soft knock at the door and Henry is standing there in his plaid pajamas, hair mussed from sleep as he peers curiously into the room. Robin asks him quickly, “Have you had your… your vax-ation? For the fluensa?” He feels stupid as he stumbles over the unfamiliar words, but fears for Henry's health.

“Yeah,” the boy says softly, “Mom and I both got them in November.”

Robin feels relieved, at least Henry and Regina will be safe from this.

There is a swirl of smoke and Regina and Dr. Whale re-appear in the room. Whale is carrying armfuls of strange looking items, and he hurriedly gets to work placing a needle in Roland's little hand and stringing tubes and bags of clear liquid up to drip into him.

Robin is so scared, has never seen such equipment and the severity of his son's condition rocks him as he scrubs his hands over his face and waits for Whale to finish.

There is a hand at his back then, and Regina has come to stand next to him. She rubs her palm soothingly across his shoulders then slides her hand down his arm to hold tightly to his. Her grip is firm in his, and when he finally tears his eyes from his son he sees the worry etched across her fine features.

“Is he gonna be okay, Mom?” Henry asks softly, stepping a little further into the room.

She turns her head to her own son and says softly, “Yes, Henry, he's going to be just fine. Can you go and get dressed for school?”

Henry nods and slinks out of the room, and Regina leans her whole right side into Robin, her fingers threading tightly through his as Dr. Whale finally steps back.

“Keep an eye on him, check his temperature every hour with this,” he holds out the tiny stick to Robin. “If the bar goes higher than this -” he says, pointing to the numbers on the stick, “- call me right away,” and Robin nods.

“Now, if I might return home to get dressed?” Whale whines at Regina.

She doesn't even bother to look at him as she snaps, “You know where the front door is. Use it.”

Whale is obviously affronted as he stomps out of the room, and Robin hears the heavy entry door close a minute later.

Robin and Regina stand quietly together watching Roland for a few minutes, and it isn’t until her fingers flex against his that he realizes he’s been squeezing her hand tightly. He immediately relaxes his grip, mumbles, “Sorry,” but she pulls him around to her, wraps her arms around his waist and hugs him close to her. Robin drops his head to her neck and breathes deeply - he is so thankful for her - has no idea how he ever lived without her before.

She turns her face into his neck as her hands slide soothingly across his lower back and says quietly, “I’m going to take Henry to school, but then I’ll come back.”

He starts to protest, tells her she’s already done too much, but she’s not having it, she’s coming back and that’s that. So he agrees - there’s no use fighting her when she has her mind made up, and he hugs her extra tight, kisses the crown of her head and thanks her, thanks her a second time until she’s shushing him before she walks quietly from the room.

Robin takes a seat in the oversized armchair in the corner of the room and watches the drip-drip-drip of fluid as it streams down the little tube and into Roland’s hand. His son coughs and turns, chokes and throws up a little - ugly green stuff that must come straight from his lungs - and as Robin tends to him he wishes he could take his place, could switch with his son so that he doesn’t have to fight this awful illness.

Regina returns within the hour and helps him take Roland’s temperature. It hasn’t changed, and she says that’s good - better than it rising anyway, so Robin returns to his armchair to take up his post. She tells him she’ll be right back, and she’s gone a good ten minutes before she returns with a giant steaming mug of coffee. She’s changed, is wearing soft khaki colored leggings with thick knit socks rolled up over the cuffs, and a fuzzy white cashmere sweater that hangs loosely on her, the neckline draping elegantly as it folds forward. Her hair is still up, but it’s looser, her long bangs falling out a bit and tucked behind her ears, and her makeup is muted, almost bare.

 

He stares.

 

Can’t help it.

 

Robin is certain in this moment that Regina is his very own saving grace - she is the epitome of compassion and beauty, and his desire for her is so much more than physical, is soul-deep, is extraordinarily unprecedented in the way he longs for her companionship.

His mind whispers _stunning_ and _perfect_ and _wife_ to him as his breath stutters, and Robin wishes he had magic so he could pull his own heart out and give it to her.

She gives him a funny look as she moves toward him, asks quietly, “What?” as she hands him his coffee.

He takes the large cup from her and shifts to one side of the large chair, asks, “Sit with me awhile?” and he’s so, so pleased when she agrees. She settles in next to him, her legs draped across his knees as she puts her back into the opposite corner and reaches for the coffee mug, takes a long sip, and hands it back to him as they both turn back to Roland.

 

They pass much of the day this way, curled up in the armchair together keeping watch over Roland, until Henry gets home from school. Regina fixes dinner and eats with her son, brings Robin a plate - fettuccine alfredo she calls it - and takes Roland’s temperature again. Finally, his fever has started to come down.

Roland is too tired to eat, says he’s not hungry and rolls away from his father, slipping back into sleep before Robin can argue with him over it. Robin doesn’t have the heart to wake him or to force the food upon him, so he takes the plates to the kitchen where Regina is washing dishes and Henry is drying. He helps them pick up what’s left and then Henry scoots upstairs to his bedroom with his video game device while Regina explains what a baby monitor is to Robin.

It’s the craziest contraption - shows him a video of his son and he can hear his pathetic coughs as Robin holds the screen close to his face and studies it. Regina pours them each a glass of red wine and they take the baby monitor into the living room with them. She casually swipes her hand at the fireplace and a flame jumps from her palm to the logs, lighting immediately, and he smirks - it’s sexy as fuck when she does little magic things like that.

They settle in on her large, plush sofa and talk quietly as they watch the monitor and drink their wine. They take turns going up to check on Roland in person, carefully taking his temperature and checking his IV as the the night slips by. At midnight they both agree that Roland is probably fine for the night - his fever has broken and his cough slightly lessened by the strong medicine coursing through him. When Regina picks up the baby monitor from the coffee table and stands, a wave of anxiety rushes through Robin - he has no idea what comes next - should he leave? Should he sleep in Roland’s room? Here on the couch?

She looks down at him and he can see the same conflict in her eyes, so he stands, kisses her cheek and asks, “Would it be alright if I stayed in Roland’s room tonight?”

She starts to agree, but then changes course. “He’s going to cough all night, and you hardly had any sleep last night, Robin -”

He realizes where she’s going mid-sentence and cuts in, doesn’t want her to have to say it, “What time shall I come back in the morning, then?” he says quickly, “Is daybreak too early?”

She pauses and gets the cutest smile on her face as she looks at him, and he suddenly feels like an idiot and doesn’t even know why.

“Well, you’re welcome to come back at daybreak,” she says quietly, tilts her head, “or - if you can behave yourself - you can share with me.”

Robin’s brows shoot heavenward in surprise as his heart races.

She smirks, huffs out a little laugh at him before her eyes go serious - “But you have to behave, and you have to be out of my room before Henry gets up.”

He closes his mouth and swallows, nods because he doesn’t trust his voice.

 

He follows her upstairs like a puppy, careful and quiet behind her as they walk the long hallway to her room. She gets him a spare toothbrush and it is the most oddly satisfying sensation to stand next to her in the large bathroom while they brush their teeth and ready for bed. She slides a headband on and wets her face, smooths some kind of soap over her skin and scrubs her makeup off, swirling her fingers around her forehead, nose, and chin, coating her whole face in the white cream. She rinses her fingers and reaches back, pulls the tie from her hair, and as the ebony locks fall free they are kinked a little.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen something quite so adorable in his entire life.

She starts scrubbing her face again, catches him staring at her and pauses, mutters, “It has to set for a second,” but she dips down and rinses her face anyway as he grins at her.

When she pats her face dry and pulls the headband off, she suddenly looks nervous, and he steps into her, can’t stop himself from sliding his hands across her damp cheeks as he leans in slowly and presses a soft kiss to her lips. She returns it, her hands slide up and down his sides as they exchange a few more slow, easy kisses, but then she steps back, pushes his chest lightly, and fights a smile as she chastises him, “ _Behave_ , Thief, or you’ll be sleeping downstairs.”

Robin grins back at her and raises his hands in surrender, then makes his way from the bathroom to her bed. He knows which side is hers, so he goes to the other side and situates the baby monitor, strips down to his t-shirt and boxer briefs and slides under her silky sheets. The bathroom door closes and when she emerges a few seconds later, he sits halfway up in shock at her choice in pajamas.

 

And here he was, just thinking that she doesn’t have a lick of Evil left in her.

 

Boy was he wrong.

 

“Are you serious?” he asks, a little exasperated as she moves toward the bed.

She stops, looks down at herself and she can’t quite hide the sexy smirk from him as she asks with mock innocence, “Serious about what?”

His eyes rake over the tiny navy blue silk shorts and tank top she’s wearing, and his mouth literally waters at all the perfect golden skin she’s showing off. Her long, smooth legs are bare to her upper thigh, the straps on her tank are tiny - pencil thin - and the neckline cuts into a vee at the front. He can blatantly see that she’s not wearing a bra, which makes him wonder if she’s wearing panties, and - _Christ-fucking-jesus_ \- he’s _this_ close to getting hard and he’s not supposed to. He’s supposed to _behave_.

“You’re bloody well killing me, that’s what,” he says as he drops dramatically back down to the pillows.

She laughs softly as she continues to her side of the bed and says, “I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry.”

Robin laughs too, slaps his palms over his eyes for a second as she slides in next to him, and he can’t quite control the happy feeling that rushes through him. He turns away from her to stop from reaching for her, and he checks the monitor - Roland appears to be sleeping soundly now, hasn’t coughed in some time and Robin can hear his deep breaths as he slumbers.

Regina clicks off the lamp at her bedside table, and the room is bathed in darkness. Robin has this weird, intense feeling as he remembers the last time he was in her bed, and he’s overcome with sudden relief. The last time he was here with her he was certain it would be the last, and yet... here he is tonight.

 

“Nope.” he says quietly.

“Hmm?” she asks.

“My apologies, Your Majesty, but given the extenuating circumstances, I cannot be expected to behave.” He rolls quickly to her side of the bed and slides one arm under her, the other over to circle her waist as he pulls her firmly to him - her back to his chest - as he buries his nose in her beautiful hair and nuzzles the nape of her neck. She’s soft in his arms, completely compliant, and it thrills him to the core.

“To what circumstances are you referring?” she asks, amusement in her voice.

He says simply, “You.”

She huffs out a laugh and he squeezes her tightly to him as he presses a kiss to the back of her head.

He smooths his palms across the slippery fabric covering her stomach and scooches his body closer to hers, pulls his legs up and presses himself against her from ankle to shoulder. She takes in a deep breath, and her hand slides to cover his, holds him still against her and he stops, forces himself to relax behind her and waits for her to decide what comes next.

“We shouldn’t, Robin,” she whispers.

He nods against her, understands she’s not ready and whispers, “Okay, darling.” He kisses the back of her head again - can’t help it - and pulls back, meaning to shift to his side of the bed.

Her hand tightens on his and he stills, unsure what to do, but she saves him when she says, “But this is alright.”

Robin grins into the dark room, snuggles up to her, presses his face in close to her neck, and closes his eyes. This is perfect, everything in this moment is _perfect_. Their sons are safe and sound, and she is here - wrapped up with him - and he is hers, entirely. There is nowhere else in the world he would rather be.

 

* * *

 

Robin drifts into consciousness, and it takes him a moment to remember where he is. He opens his eyes to the dark room, wondering what woke him, and then he _knows_.

He sucks in a deep breath, certain he’s being tested - certain that the universe has some colossal vendetta against his cock as he feels her hand rub over his rigid length again. He’s on his back, and she’s tucked up into his side, her head against his shoulder and one leg thrown over his as her hand moves softly against him.

 

Robin pants a little, tries hard to think thoughts.

 

Finally he gathers himself, smooths his hand over her back and says, “Regina darling, wake up.”

“I’m awake,” she immediately whispers back, stroking him, and he groans with the revelation.

She continues to touch him through the thin cotton, and he’s at a loss. This woman is completely unpredictable - has purposefully encouraged his cock to attention after telling him no, and what the bloody hell is he supposed to do with it now?

“Is this okay?” she whispers as her hand slides across him, and he could laugh. Of course it’s bloody fucking okay.

Robin licks his lips. “It’s more than okay,” he says quietly and moans when her fingers curl around him a little, squeezing. “But you’re going to have to tell me what the rules are, babe, I don’t want to cross the line,” he admits.

She makes a low _hmmm_ in her throat, and he rubs between her shoulder blades, slides the fingers of his other hand through her hair, and kisses the top of her head.

“The rules are,” she shifts a little, picks her head up to look at him, “that you don’t move unless I tell you to.” Her eyes are dead serious, and his cock twitches in her hand.

The breath rushes from his chest, and he asks, “Is that what you need?” She nods, strokes him again, and he immediately acquiesces, says, “Anything - anything you need, darling.”

She shifts a little, slips her hand under his waistband, and he moans as the hot skin of her palm comes into contact with his cock. She grasps him lightly, smooths up and down his length, and Robin clenches his hands into fists to keep from touching her. Her hand slides down, cups each of his balls lightly, squeezing and rolling them a little before she comes back up to stroke him again. She tightens her grip, increasing the friction, and he bites his lip, twists his hands in the sheets.

 

Not touching her is _torture_.

 

She shifts over, pulls his t-shirt off, then his boxers, and gets to her knees between his thighs.

 _Oh fuck_.

For the first time in his life, he actually does _not_ want this - not because he doesn’t actually want it, but because he’s not allowed to touch her while she does it, and he’s going to fucking die if he can’t.

She grasps his shaft firmly and leans forward, licks the flat of her tongue across his sensitive head.

He jerks upward, tries not to but fails, and she pulls back sharply, squeezes him _very_ firmly and says, her voice low and rough, “Easy.”

He pants quickly, trying to calm down as she dips her head again, and he can’t look, can’t watch as she lowers her mouth to him - she’s-so-fucking-hot-and-her-mouth-is-so-fucking-perfect-and-her-lips-are-going-to-wrap-around-him-and-he’s-going-to-fucking-die-with-the-pleasure-of-her-and-he-cannot-fucking-touch-her.

“Watch me,” she commands.

 

 _Oh god -_ she is an evil, _evil_ queen.

 

He groans, squeezes his eyes shut, and she repeats herself, “Watch me, Robin,” and he almost cries when he opens his eyes and stares helplessly as she swirls her tongue across the weeping head of him.

His chest is shaking as he locks his arms down, the muscles in his shoulders and chest tight with the restraint. She swirls and swirls around his head, licks enthusiastically at the dip where his head connects with his shaft. He’s biting his lips now, fingers digging harshly into her sheets as he stares at her beautiful mouth, and she looks up at him, makes eye contact as she sucks him between her lips, takes him in, in, right down to nudge the back of her throat. She pulls him deeper, closes her eyes, and lets her throat constrict on him, then pulls him out only to suck him right back in again as she purposefully gags on him, and _fucking Christ_ he’s going to have a goddamn seizure from the shock her mouth is sending through his nervous system.

She pulls up a little and sucks him expertly, long smooth strokes through her tight, plump lips as her tongue swirls against him as her hand makes up the difference, twisting a little. He’s _fucked_ \- is never, ever going to last - it’s been forever since they’ve been together, and he has barely touched himself in those weeks, not to mention the glorious fact that this is _Regina-fucking-Mills_ kneeling between his legs and running her smart mouth all over him. _Christ_.

“Regina,” he pants, moans as she sucks hard and hollows her cheeks a little, “I can’t - I’m gonna - can’t last,” he grits out.

She pulls her head up, fists his length in her pretty hand, and starts stroking him fast as she says, “Not until I tell you to.”

Robin growls in arousal and frustration, can’t help it, she’s so hot and he’s trying so hard to give her what she needs, but _fuck_ it’s almost impossible. As she pumps her hand quickly over him, his abs quiver with restraint, his toes curl as he braces and tries frantically to think of _anything_ other than Regina, but he can’t - he’s completely rapt with her, and he’s going to come, can feel his balls pulling up as she strokes and strokes him, and he stares at her hand, prays for some creator to grace him with a miracle to hold on for her, to do as she asks of him.

“Say my name,” she orders, her voice quiet but firm.

“- Regina,” he immediately responds.

“Again,” she increases the speed of her hand, bends and licks the head of him, sucks him into her mouth and swirls her tongue around and around as her hand pumps.

“Oh, fuck - Regina - _Reginahh,_ ” he begs, breathless.

Her hand slides down, and she sucks him with long, fast strokes, her head bobbing and tongue hot against him, her other hand plays with his balls and he’s going to - _fuck_ any second - he’s fighting it but he can’t - _Christ._  

She pulls her head up sharply, pumps him tight and fast with her hand and he _almost_ thrusts up but doesn’t, feels like a god for being able to hold still for her, and she locks eyes with him as she warns sharply, “Not yet.” She releases him, and in a half a second she’s pulled her shorts off and is climbing up him - _fuck fuck fuck_ \- she straddles him, hovers her sex over him, and resumes pumping him as she asks, “Who do you belong to?”

“You!” he says immediately, and she impales herself on his rigid aching cock.

His back arches and he throws his head back in a silent, frustrated scream as she slides down on him, his fists slamming hard into the mattress with restraint, but she’s a merciful, merciful woman, because she’s commanding him, _Yes_ and _Now,_  and he surges up, flips her on her back, and pounds into her. He’s sorry for it, he is - doesn’t mean to fuck her so hard but he can’t help it, and he’s telling her - _swearing_ to her - “ _Yours_ , always _yours_ Regina,” as he slams into her and _comes_.

He drives his hips hard into her as he floods her with his come, drives his legs into the bed as he presses hard against her and groans, and when she moans, spreads her legs wider to let him in even deeper, scratches her perfect nails up his back, he jerks against her, thrusts deeeeep - deeeeep - buries himself inside of her as he gushes, filling and filling her as he drops his mouth to the top of her shoulder and sinks his teeth in.

He’s panting so, so hard when he finally stops coming, dizzy and completely drained, but he wants to look at her, wants to know what’s next, so he drags himself back, gets to his knees and sits back on his heels between her lasciviously spread thighs.

He looks down at her, and he wants to make her come - will use his hands or his mouth or whatever the fuck she will let him use to make it happen, to make her feel the way he just did. He drags his eyes over her body and she’s breathing hard too, her chest thrust up and nipples hard through her tank top, perspiration at her hairline making a few strands stick to her, and she’s absolutely stunning beneath him as he sits back and watches his come seep from her hot, swollen sex.

“Please,” he says, licking his lips as he looks at her, and he has never in his life begged a woman to let him make her come, but he’s doing it now, will do _anything_ she asks of him if she will let him pleasure her.

Her eyes are so dark beneath him, and her perfect arched brows raise at his request. She looks him over, slides her hands up her inner thighs, strokes over her tank top and up her stomach to her breasts, across her hard nipples, where she stops to play with herself as he watches. Robin moans - he might actually die now - his heart might explode in his chest if she does what he thinks she’s going to do right now.

She pinches her nipples, her eyes on him, and he’s not touching her except where he kneels between her thighs, but his hands itch - tingle - shake - with his want. She runs her hands down and pulls her shirt up and off, and suddenly her full, lush tits are before him and his mouth opens automatically - he wants her nipples against his tongue and he swallows thickly, trying to quell his watering mouth.

“Please,” he says again, obviously begging her now. She strokes her hands across the toned planes of her stomach, using just her fingertips to raise gooseflesh against herself as she drags them up her sides. She reaches her breasts, palms both of them and squeezes, her breath hitching a little as she does, as she kneads and plays with them.

Robin is panting - can’t even get hard yet, it’s too quick and he’s too spent, but that doesn’t stop his need from rising, his insane level of _want_ from coursing through his whole body and driving him to beg her again, “Please, please, Regina.”

She thumbs her nipples, strokes softly around and around then flicks across them, pinches and rolls them, shuddering and arching beneath her own touch.

 

All he wants is to rub her clit.

 

Or suck on one nipple.

 

Would even settle for being allowed to stroke her thighs for her.  

 

He knows he deserves this, deserves this punishment for the way things happened, for the poor choices he has made, but he’s also completely, devastatingly in love with her - he wants to worship her body for her, wants to pleasure her so completely that she never needs to touch herself again, wants her to always reach for him to give her this.

She runs one hand down and strokes through her sex, runs her fingers through her slit and smears the come she finds there - _his come_ \- around her petals, strokes her clit with the lubrication of it. Robin drops his head because he’s at his limit, he’s going to break right now, going to fail her and touch her, and he’s disappointed in himself even as he resists the temptation.

She swirls her fingers against her clit, starting up a quick motion, and he watches, despondent, as she stimulates herself in place of him, as she works herself up and up, pinching and playing with her own breasts as she circles and circles and rub-rub-rubs against her swollen little clit while his come drizzles out of her. She’s breathing hard now, arching against her own frantic fingers as she touches herself, swirling and swirling, and Robin is near tears, the want within him is unbearable, and he’s half hard as he watches her, as she drips her slick need onto the sheets and starts moaning.

She works and works and works herself, and she’s twitching a little now, her thighs starting to tremble as she spreads her legs wider and thrusts two fingers into herself. She pumps quickly, deeply for several thrusts then pulls out, goes back to her clit, and that’s it - Robin cracks - this awful sob comes from his chest as he concedes, “Okay, okay,” completely loses all control of his emotions as he fists his hands hard on his thighs, and starts shaking, starts babbling, “okay, okay, okay-okay-okay” and “oh-god-oh-god,” as he accepts his defeat and watches her spiral up closer and closer to her orgasm.

Just as she’s about to come, he’s sure of it, is positive she’s just about there - she pulls her hands away completely, reaches up and grabs him by the back of the neck, pulls him on top of her as she orders, “Finish me - oh god Robin - please, _please!_ ”

He gasps his astonished, joyous relief into her mouth as he kisses her, a little sloppy, completely desperate as his hand slides to her sex, rubs two thick fingers against her clit - fast-fast-fast- and she arches, immediately starts to come as she says his name again, so he rubs more, more, and she jerks her hips up, moaning against his mouth as her pleasure skyrockets. He shoves three fingers into her, pumps with short punctuated thrusts - quick, quick, quick as his palm slaps against her clit, and she tightens, spasms hard on his fingers as she clutches his neck, pulls him hard against her as she shudders and gasps and clenches and moans _oh, ohhh, ohhhhhhh_ , in his ear.

Robin stays on her, stays tightly pressed against her while she recovers, while she breathes deeply and shivers under him with the aftershocks of her pleasure. He slips his fingers from her, cups her and just holds her sex as she comes down, and he never wants to move his hand, wants to stay right here forever just in case she needs him. He shifts a little, sucks the corner of her jaw, down the column of her neck to her collarbone and peppers her chest with kisses.

She calms under him, smooths her hands across his shoulders and tugs him back up to her as they shift to their sides, facing each other. She kisses his lips, strokes his jaw, and closes her eyes as she breathes deeply.

Robin traces the curve of her hip, pulls her in a little closer and says, “ _Christ_ , babe, that was… _jesus_ … you’re brilliant.”

She opens her eyes as she threads her fingers through his, pulls his hand up to her chest and holds it to her as she says, “You're forgiven.”

He kisses her again, presses his forehead to hers, and it is mere seconds before they are asleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The sunlight streams in through the edges of the window blinds as Robin opens his eyes and takes in the soft white of the room. To his left he can hear Roland's deep breathing through the monitor as his son slumbers down the hall, and to his right?

 

_Heaven._

 

He rolls onto his side as quietly as possible and runs his eyes over the smooth, golden planes of her back. She's on her stomach, the sheets gathered at her waist with her face turned away from him. Her gorgeous black hair is shockingly beautiful as it splays across the stark white sheets, and Robin's fingers itch to touch it, to stroke through the thick strands.

But he's not ready to wake her - she is so tranquil in sleep, the rise and fall of her chest incredibly alluring as she breathes deeply, calmly. There is a peacefulness that radiates from her, casting her in an incandescent haze as Robin stares, her inner light phosphorescing before his eyes and pulling him to her by the strings of his heart. He just barely catches himself as he unconsciously reaches for her - his hand hovering centimeters from the perfect skin of her back.

He pulls his hand away but inhales deeply, trying to breathe in the serene aura she creates so naturally. His infatuation, his awe, his love for her is tangible as he slides his body carefully, quietly, closer to hers. He is helpless to stop himself, wants to let her sleep, but cannot bear to lay in bed beside her and not touch her.

He tucks up next to her on his side and lets his hand smooth lightly across her lower back as he settles in, his head on her pillow as he presses his front against her side. Her skin is so, so soft and the warmth of her tingles under his palm as he lets the weight of it settle over her, so content. He could, _would_ , lay here with her for hours, just like this, if she would but grant him it.

She stirs a little with his movement, pulls in a deep breath and shifts onto her side, her back pressing into him as he wraps his arm around her waist and slides his leg forward. It's not meant to be sexual, it’s purely a way for him to increase the contact with her skin as his leg slips between her naked thighs and presses against her core.

She is hot, and moist against the top of his thigh as he brings his leg up, pressing firmly to her, reveling in her heat and need and pure femininity as she rolls her hips a little against him. His cock hardens, but he does nothing about it, wants only to stay here, frozen in time with her, wrapped up in the quiet and early morning light.

Robin closes his eyes and inhales again, breathes the sweet scent of her hair and nuzzles his face in close, dropping his forehead to the nape of her neck as he presses himself against her. She makes this sweet, low sound in her throat, not a moan but more of a sleepy sigh, and Robin's hand slides up to palm her perfect breast before he drifts back to sleep against her warmth.

 

 

* * *

 

Robin startles awake, his arms tightening around her protectively as he opens his eyes, confused and unsure of what has interrupted his dreams. Regina pushes at his arms, shoves away from him as she hisses, “ _Shit!_ ” slides across the bed and whispers harshly, “Oh god - get up - hurry!”

Robin furrows his brow at her panicked tone, and she's tugging her pajamas on as he sits up in her bed and tries to make sense of the situation. She throws his boxers at him, whispers frantically, “Damnit, Robin, get up!” as she pulls her hair into a ponytail and grabs for him. He barely has his underwear on before she nearly drags him from her bed by his wrist, pushing him toward the bathroom as she scolds, “I told you you had to be out of here before Henry got up!” Robin has no time to reply as she shoves him through the door and pulls it closed, latching it as silently as possible, and in the next second he hears her say, “Good morning honey!” through the thick wood.

 

Well, fuck.

 

He hadn't meant to overstay his welcome, but she'd been so lovely, so serene this morning he just couldn't bring himself to sneak out. Apparently that was a mistake.

Robin is just wondering how long he's going to have to stay in the bathroom when the door reopens and she's standing there, obviously flustered and staring daggers at him.

Robin cringes and raises his hands, immediately whispers, “Fuck babe, I'm sorry.”

She's clearly not expecting him to apologize, because her gaze softens immediately at his words, and she shakes her head, runs her hand over her brow and concedes, “No, no that's okay- I panicked.”

She steps into the room and shuts the door, rubs her hands up and down him from his shoulders to his pecs, so he steps closer to her, pulls her into him and kisses the top of her head as he wraps his arms around her.

She whispers into his neck, “I don't think Henry knows you were here, so I'll teleport you out front - you can knock and we'll play it off that way, okay?”

Robin smirks but agrees and steals a quick kiss from her soft lips. He turns her in his arms - her back is to his front so they are facing the large mirror - and he wraps his arms around her waist tightly. He's pretty sure he’s going to need a good grip, pretty sure she's going to throw a fit when she finds out.

He makes eye contact with her in the mirror as he drops his mouth to her ear, and he tries but isn’t entirely able to stop the smile from forming as he says quietly, “Henry may not have known I was in your room this morning, darling, but I'm pretty sure he knows I was _here_ ,” and he drops his mouth to kiss the large, darkly bruised bite mark that marrs the top of her shoulder, plainly visible due to the thin straps of her tank top.

The way Regina's eyes widen with shock and embarrassment - paired with the sly smirk Henry gives him later that morning - are enough to have him grinning for the entire rest of the day as he sits with his son down the hallway and nurses him back to health.

 

 


	15. The 1st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ed Sheeran - Fall  
> Sarah McLachlan - Sweet Surrender  
> Taylor Swift - Dress  
> The xx - I Dare You

 

 

Chapter Fourteen - The 1st 

 

It takes a few days but Roland recovers from his illness beautifully. Robin is forced to admit that perhaps living in a tent is not conducive to raising a child in Storybrooke, and starts to wonder what his other options are. He has a responsibility to his son, needs to provide stability for him and enroll him in school soon - and it’s important that he get this right. He wants to provide Roland with the best life he can, and thinks that he can do that here.

On Tuesday the Mills and Locksley families return to their routine of breakfast at Granny’s diner, and at the end of the meal, Henry pulls Robin aside as Regina helps Roland get back into his gloves.

“Friday is mom’s birthday,” he whispers to him. “But she has to work late that night so I’m staying with Emma at the loft until Sunday. If you want to win big points with her, you should surprise her with something nice,” Henry slips his house key into Robin’s hand. “Don’t lose this or she’ll kill me,” he says quickly, then pulls away from Robin and jogs out the diner entrance.

Robin has never been more grateful for Henry than he is in this moment. He would have been devastated had he missed Regina’s birthday, and with Friday fast approaching he’s going to have to scramble a bit to put something together as it is. Armed with the knowledge that Henry has given him, as well as easy access into the Mills residence, Robin comes up with a plan he thinks even a queen will appreciate.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s half eight when he hears the garage door open, and he’s ready for her - convinced her secretary to call the house phone to alert him when Regina finally left her office for the evening.

The lights are on low in the kitchen, the dining table set with candles and wine and her fine cutlery, and dinner is in the oven starting to bake. He hears the click of her heels and a heavy sigh as she pauses, and she must have been removing her shoes because a few seconds later she silently appears in the door to the kitchen, her eyes sharp and suspicious as she enters. He’s not trying to startle her, so he pushes off from where he’s leaning against the counter in the far corner and says softly, “Welcome home, my darling.”

She’s obviously shocked - her brow furrows hard as she sweeps her gaze around the tidy kitchen, over the food simmering on the stove and baking in the oven, tilts a little to the side to peer into the large dining room and sees the table set and ready for the two of them. Her eyes sweep over him from head to toe, and he swallows thickly, nervous about how he looks tonight. David helped him purchase the finery that men wear in this realm - a navy blue jacket and pants, with a white button up shirt and black tie.

“Oh, Robin,” she breathes, a soft smile gracing her features as she steps forward. He goes to her, wraps his arms around her and kisses her soundly.

She pulls back and laughs a little as she asks quietly, “What’s all this for?”

 

Oh god.

 

A wave of anxiety rushes through Robin. If Henry was lying about today being her birthday, he’s going to die of embarrassment.

“It’s February the first,” he says, looking for any recognition in her eyes.

She nods, but looks as confused as he is.

“It’s the first,” he repeats, then, “Isn’t today your birthday?” he feels like a complete dolt.

Suddenly, she breaks into a huge grin, frames his face with her pretty hands as she goes up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to his. He can feel her smile as she kisses and kisses him, until she pulls her face back, kisses his cheek as she wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly.

He’s not sure if that’s a yes or a no, but then she nods against him, says softly, “I can’t believe you know that.”

Robin grins, gives her a tight squeeze but then steps back a little, wanting to look at her beautiful face. “Well I can’t take all the credit,” he says, “Henry tipped me off.”

He watches intently as her love of her son washes plainly across her features, and his smile grows - he’s already accomplished his goal of making her feel at least a little loved tonight.

She smiles sweetly at him and tucks her hair behind her ear. “What are we having?” she asks as she peeks around him at the stove, but he swings them around walks her backwards out of the kitchen.

“We’ve got some time before it’s ready,” he says softly. “Why don’t you go up and change, relax for a bit?” He can’t wait for her to go upstairs - he’s lit her large bathroom with candles, drawn her a hot sudsy bath, and set a glass of red wine out for her.

She looks at him with amused suspicion, but after another deep kiss she agrees to go. When she doesn’t immediately return, he gives himself another pat on the back for the success he’s had so far this evening.

 

It’s about time he’s gotten things right for her.

 

She returns just as he’s setting the last of the food on the table, and when he sees her he groans in satisfaction, almost melts with his desire for her.

She’s freshly bathed, in a gorgeous, low cut royal blue dress that hugs her curves and drapes softly, shifting with her as she walks toward him. Her ebony hair is soft and down, brushing her bare neck, and the red of her lips matches the rubies in her silver earrings that flash alluringly as they catch the candlelight. He notes that she is stockingless, though she is wearing fine black heels that raise her height a few inches, and he exhales harshly.

Robin openly stares at her as she moves into the room, and he lets himself stop for a moment to revel in the essence of her. Regina Mills positively emanates class, elegance, and grace. It radiates from her naturally - as easy as breathing - and he basks in it, in _her_. She is the definition of regal, truly is a queen - even in this strange realm - and he can’t help but appreciate her sweet perfection as she smiles at him from across her dining room table.

Her beauty is undeniably unrivaled, her smooth skin, full red lips, dark eyes, and gorgeous ebony hair immediately draw the eye of everyone in sight of her, but Robin has come to know that Regina's unparalleled looks aren’t even her best feature, for she bears the the exquisitely imperfect heart of a true heroine.  

Robin smiles as he runs his eyes over her and tells her, “My god, Regina, beautiful doesn’t even come close to how lovely you are.”

She smirks at him and places her hands on the back of her chair as she looks him over and says, “The same could be said of you, Thief.”

He suddenly feels victorious, feels like all of the drama that has infected the past few months has finally been eradicated.

 

They are halfway through the meal when he catches her smiling to herself, and he’s curious so he asks what that’s about. She gives him a suspicious look and asks, “Where on earth did you learn to make lasagna?”

His ears flush red and he hesitates, unsure if he wants to share that tidbit of information with her, but her smile is encouraging and she seems to like the food, so he admits, “Granny taught me last night.”

She ducks her head as her smile grows, and he wishes he knew what was so amusing.

Regina shakes her head a little, and when she looks up at him there is emotion shimmering in her eyes as she tells him, “Granny taught me too. She knows it’s my favorite.”

Robin gives himself another victory point - didn’t know it was her _favorite_ but at Granny’s insistence that _this_ be what he makes for the queen, he should have guessed there was more to the story.

They continue with easy conversation throughout the rest of the meal, and when they’ve had their fill Regina helps him move the leftover food and dishes to the kitchen. He returns to the dining area and wipes down the large, heavy table, and when he turns he catches her leaning in the door frame, watching him.

“You know, I could take care of this mess for you,” she says quietly.

“Absolutely not,” he says immediately, “You’re not to lift a finger this evening - leave everything to me.” He doesn’t want her to have to use her magic - knows it takes up energy, doesn’t want her to spend it on something as trivial as dinner cleanup.

She pushes off from the door frame and walks slowly over to him, the sway of her hips drawing his eye as she moves, and there is something so, so sensual in the way her dark eyes sweep over him. He licks his lips.

She steps into him, strokes her hand down his necktie and tugs on it a little. “I like this,” she says quietly, sliding her fingers down the silky material again. He puts his hands on her hips as she slides in even closer, runs both her hands down the lapels of his jacket. “And I like this,” she says softly, unbuttoning it. Robin’s heart rate skyrockets.

Regina slides her hands inside his open jacket and runs her hands up his chest. She digs her fingernails in a little as she scrapes down the front of him and says, “Mmm, like this too.” Her breath hits his chin as she slowly touches him, and he squeezes her hips, wants to kiss her but she seems to have some sort of plan and it _is_ her birthday, so he holds back, lets her direct this.

Her hands drift down over his abs to his obliques, and her fingers trace along the edge of his shiny leather belt. Her fingers toy with the buckle, with the tail end of the belt, and he’s getting hard by the second, loves the slow build up she’s creating as her hands hover so close to his cock. He ducks his head down, and the sides of their faces are almost touching as she looks down at her hands.

“This, I don’t like,” she says quietly, and she slides the end of his belt from the loop at his waist. Robin shudders with his want for her. “No, I don’t like this at all,” she rasps as she works the leather through the buckle, completely undoing the belt. Excitement and arousal surge through Robin’s veins - she’s so, _so_ sexy - his desire for her has never been stronger. He slides his hands to her lower back, lets them drift down over the top of her arse as she plays with the button on his slacks. He rubs his temple softly against hers and she makes a low little _mmm_ sound in her throat.

“I don’t like this either,” she murmurs as she slips the button through the little hole, slowly slides the zip down. He tilts his head and kisses her cheekbone, feels her smile against him.

He’s hard for her - it’s getting to be a rarity when he is _not_ hard for her - and he’s so curious of where she’s going with this, curious about what she wants tonight.

She slips her hand inside his pants, rubs him through the cotton of his underwear, and a harsh breath expels from Robin’s lungs. Her touch is fucking perfect as she slides her fingers over him, smoothing slowly, slowly up his length and then back down at the same pace. She tilts her face to him, places hot little kisses along his jaw, up to his ear and whispers teasingly, “I _really_ like this.”

He laughs softly - loves this woman so much - and says, “I’m quite certain of its affinity for _you_ , Milady.”

She snickers into his neck and nips his earlobe, sucks at his pulse point as her hand slides up and over the waistband of his underwear, then down to wrap around the hot length of him. He leans his lower back against the dining table, and his hips move toward her as she starts to stroke him. He’s so turned on - she’s fucking gorgeous as she works him up, fully clothed in her dining room of all places - _Christ_. She releases him and slides her hand out, goes for his tie and loosens it, lets it hang as she starts unbuttoning his shirt. She makes quick work of it and spreads the sides of it wide, and he’s not wearing an undershirt, wasn’t quite sure how the whole outfit worked so his bare chest is now exposed to her.

Regina slides her palms over his abs, up to his chest, and then back down to his navel. She does it again, chases her hands with hot, sucking kisses and it feels so good, feels like she’s loving on him and his breath catches, his arousal and emotions both surging up in tandem as she nips the hard outline of his pec and flicks across his nipple with her tongue. He slides his hands through her soft, dark hair, threading his fingers into it. She dips lower, sucking kisses across his stomach, then sinks gracefully to her knees as she slides his pants down and - _bloody fucking hell -_ she sucks him into her mouth.

He immediately starts panting, smooths his fingers through the heavy strands of her hair and tries to keep his hands light against her. He cannot believe - _can not believe_ \- that his queen is on her knees, sucking his cock.

There’s a huge kink to it - that this powerful woman is doing this for him, and he moans loudly with the thought, with the ministrations of her hot mouth as she swirls her tongue along him, flicks against his head and cups his balls. His breathing accelerates as he hardens even further for her, and he wants to pleasure her so much - can’t wait another second to have her, he’s got to have her _now_.

He tightens his fingers a little, gently tugs against her as he says, “Oh, babe, that’s fucking brilliant,” she sucks hard and he jerks toward her. “Oh my god - please, please come up here and let me touch you,” he pleads, and his voice is strained as she strokes her mouth over him, massages his balls and takes him deep down her throat. She ignores him, keeps working him, and he’s so hard, _Christ_ , she’s so fucking good at this, her lips and tongue slide along him as her hand pumps him, and it’s amazing but - _fuck_ \- this isn’t what he was planning when he set all this up for her birthday.

That’s the thought that snaps him out of the daze he’s in, has him sliding his fingers from her hair to grab under her arms, pulling her up so quickly she really can’t react. He grabs her by the waist and picks her up as he turns, sets her on the dining table and shoves her thighs apart as he steps between them. He immediately leans in, kisses her hard, slides his tongue into her open mouth and tastes the bitter salt of his skin on hers. It’s fucking hot, knowing that she’s just sucked his cock - Regina Mills has just _sucked his cock on her knees_ \- and his hips grind against her as his lips push and pull and claim hers.

She runs her hands over his shoulders, slides his jacket off and goes for his shirt next, gets his cuffs free quickly, and then he’s bare chested for her. She moans at the sight of him, scratches her nails lightly over him and squeezes his ribs. He goes for his tie, diving in to kiss her lips over and over as he works on the knot, but her hands grab his wrists and she says, “Leave it,” as she smiles sinfully at him, nips his chin and sucks kisses against his neck. One hand tugs hard on his tie, the other slides down to his arse and she digs her fingers in, pulls him to her as she scoots closer to the edge of the table.

“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at the low neckline of her dress as his hands search in vain for the hidden zipper. She leans back, her palms braced behind her on the table, and when she gives him this hot little smirk he knows what’s coming but is still fucking stunned by it when she waves her pretty hand and is suddenly naked in front of him.

 

Robin fucking _loves_ magic.

 

He grabs her by her thighs and jerks her forward, puts one hand on her chest and pushes her down flat to the tabletop as he spreads her thighs and slides the pads of his fingers through her slit. She’s so wet already, is hot and slick, and her hips thrust wantonly toward his fingers as he strokes along her smooth sex. She reaches toward him and grabs his tie, tugs until he’s bending over her, his fingers slipping around and around her clit as he warms her up. She breathes heavily under him, squirming with his attentions on her sensitive bundle of nerves, and he drops his head, bites at the underside of her breast before flattening his tongue and licking up toward her nipple. He slides his tongue around the little bud as he works two fingers into her, and as he starts to thrust them, he pulls her nipple between his lips and suckles.

Regina shudders under him, gooseflesh breaks across her chest, and he switches to her other breast, nips all along the swell of it before sucking hard just next to her nipple. He pulls back and grins broadly as he inspects the mark - a rush of possessiveness streaks through him, and suddenly he wants to mark her _everywhere._

He flicks her nipple quickly with his tongue, sucks it hard and lets it slip from his lips before he goes back to her other breast, presses his mouth to the bottom edge of it and marks her there, then works down her ribs to her stomach as his fingers thrust steadily inside of her, speeding up a little with his excitement as more and more of his love bites interrupt her perfect skin. He sucks hard on the swell of her mound, and she arches, clenches on his fingers as she lets out a long _Oooo!_ for him, and he moans, speeds his fingers inside of her and sucks another mark into her hip bone.

“Jesus, Robin,” she pants as he marks her inner thigh, “I’m going to have to wear turtle necks and pants for the next month.”

Robin grins against her leg, sucks yet another mark into her and admits, “Can’t stop, need to see my marks on your perfect skin.”

He slides his mouth to her sex and runs his tongue through her, laves her clit and sucks greedily as her breath hitches. He laps at her, flicks over her little bud with firm, quick strokes of his tongue until her back comes up off the table as she arches, moaning for him while she tugs hard on his tie. He goes willingly as she pulls him up, wraps her other hand around the back of his neck and kisses him, her mouth desperate against his as she runs her tongue along his teeth, biting at his top lip. He slides his fingers from inside of her and goes back to her clit, rubbing rapidly across it as she sucks his bottom lip, her hips jerking with the hot streaks of pleasure coursing through her.

She pulls back from his lips suddenly, looks him hard in the eyes and gasps, “I’m yours, Robin - you know that, right? _I’m yours_.”

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, is immediately emotional from her words because _no, he didn't know that,_  and suddenly it’s too much, and it’s not enough, and his rigid cock throbs against his stomach with want so he grasps himself, rubs her slick juices around his head, and slides into her hot entrance.

She makes this salacious noise that’s something between a purr and a groan as she arches her hips up to his, and he bites her lip before pulling back, standing upright so he can thrust deep. She lets go of his tie, her palms flat against the table as he slides her hips forward and gets her situated just right on the edge of the table. He pulls out, looks down at her beautiful body, at the marks he’s made all across her, then strokes in smoothly all the way to the to the hilt, shuddering with the incredible hot, wet sensation of her.

He thrusts quickly - they’re both spiraled up and he wants her to come, doesn’t want to drag out the fireworks for her because _she is his,_ and he plans on giving it to her as many times as she can take it tonight - will fuck and fuck her until she asks him to stop.

She drops her thighs open for him, fingernails digging into the table as she pants and watches him slide in and out of her, licking her lips as he strokes her and rubs her clit with his thumb. Her mocha eyes are stunning, so dark and dilated as he starts to drive hard, shaking the large table with the power of his thrusts. He slides her right leg up to his shoulder, stretching her tight as he moves faster, watching her watching him, and when he slips and accidentally says, “Mine,” out loud on one particularly hard thrust, her breath catches and her thighs shake, so he gets bold and says it again, “ _Mine.”_ Regina immediately moans, her back arching as her hips swivel erotically against his. He loses control, can’t quite get over the fact that she’s getting off on his possessiveness of her, and he fucks her with hard, punctuated thrusts, calling her _Mine. Mine. Mine!_ the hot, wet slap of skin on skin echoing through the dining room. Suddenly she moans, her inner walls pulse around him, and he speeds up, pumps roughly into her as she clamps down around his thick length, and she’s coming for him, shuddering and arching and it’s beautiful, fucking hot as hell, but he wants to give her more - demands more - so he grabs her leg on his shoulder, pulls it forward and swings it past his chest as he thrusts, and now her hips are twisted to the side, her thighs and knees closed with his cock penetrating her deep between her outrageously tight, slick folds.

She gasps loudly under him, his thick girth in this position exaggerated, and she tremors again, spasms hard and says _Fuck!_ on a harsh breath as her pleasure soars through her. Robin groans, she’s so tight, so fucking tight, _Christ_ \- he digs his nails into her arse as he completely loses control, hammers _hard-hard-hard-hard_ into her soaked, tightly closed sex, and she cries out under him, her hips jumping wildly as he holds them closed, holds her down, and a hot gush of fluid rushes from her, runs down the table and onto the floor as her tight cunt shoves him right out with the slamming, clenching force of her orgasm.

He leans over her, pushes back in carefully and thrusts slowly as she shudders and throbs around the length of him, their ragged breaths loud in the dining room as she starts to come down, until she’s calmed enough that he pulls out entirely. Robin is thankful for the moment of reprieve - he is so, _so_ close but he's not done with her yet, wants to move this somewhere that he can _really_ work her up, and he's glad to have a minute to collect himself.

He leans back from her, takes her hands and pulls her to her feet, threads his hands into her hair and kisses her deeply as her heart -pounds-pounds-pounds- against his chest. He catches her eyes and asks softly, excitedly, “Ready for your birthday present?”

She gives him a huge grin, licks her swollen lips as her hand encircles his rigid, sticky cock and asks, “This isn't it?”

He laughs, and it morphs into a moan as she strokes him, but he can't get distracted, must resist her temptations for just a few more minutes. He kisses her hard, tells her no, that's _not_ her present, then he grabs her hand tightly and drags her upstairs.

 

 


	16. The Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zedd (Zedd Union Mix) [Feat. Foxes] - Clarity  
> Ed Sheeran - Dive  
> Sia - Eye of the Needle

 

 

Chapter Fifteen - The Gift 

 

Robin has been nervous a lot of times in his life - the day he asked Marian to court him; the day his son was born; the day he met Regina, to name a few.

But he’s having a hard time comparing the amount of nervousness he’s feeling right now to anything he’s ever experienced before.

Because if she doesn’t like his gift, well, he has no idea what the hell he’ll do.

They’re naked in her bed, and he didn’t quite mean it to happen this way, but she’s _Regina_ \- he only has so much willpower - and she’s straddling him as he leans back against her headboard. They’re not fucking, not quite, but he’s hard and pressed against her hot slick sex as they kiss deeply, exploring each other’s mouths with long slow strokes of their tongues, completely unhurried as they shift and rub softly against each other in the dim lamplight.

He’s holding her birthday present in his hand but can’t quite find the courage to hand it to her. Regina is uncharacteristically patient, her eyes travel over his face as he tries to pull himself together, and she strokes her hand comfortingly down his neck as she says for the hundredth time, “Robin, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

 

_God he hopes so._

 

He takes a deep breath as he holds the gift up to her, and he’s so worked up he actually feels a bit nauseous from the anxiety. She reaches for the ornate box, sitting back against his thighs as she tips the lid open, and at the last second he panics - says quickly, “There’s no pressure, I just - this just - it felt _right_.”

Her dark eyes go wide as she peers into the box, and he grabs for her free hand - her left hand - and pulls it to him. He places her palm against the very center of his chest, covers it with his and presses hard as he studies her. She’s just staring at it, at his gift, and then her fingers flex hard against his chest - clawing a little - realization washing through her as her eyes snap from the box to their joined hands, then up to his eyes.  

He’s never seen Regina speechless, didn’t even know it was possible - truly - until this moment.

Her pretty lips are parted as she stares at him, then at the box, then at him again. Her jaw works a little, she licks her lips and finally, after what feels like hours she says, her voice strained, “How?”

He rubs his hand over hers and confesses, “I traded favors with the imp.”

Her eyes are wet, full of emotion in the dim light of her bedroom as she exhales shakily and breathes, “Oh, Robin.”

“It’s yours,” he says quickly, “Yours to keep. It’s belonged to you for quite some time, but I wanted to give it to you myself, didn’t know how else to show you -” she cuts him off as she leans forward and presses her lips to his.

He’s surprised but not in a bad way, kisses her back enthusiastically as she slides her tongue into his mouth, tugs at his lips with hers and makes this sweet, breathy gasp against him. She pulls back and reaches into the box, her smooth fingers shaking just a little as she pulls the contents out, holds it carefully and looks at it with such reverence that Robin feels - _sees_ \- his heart throb against her fingertips.

She smiles softly, looks in his eyes and then back at his glowing heart, stroking her fingers along the sides carefully as she studies it. She swallows thickly and he hears the saliva click in her throat as her breathing goes a little ragged. A few beats pass and finally, _finally_ she brings her eyes to his, is completely serious, as she says, “I love it.”

The breathe slides out of Robin’s lungs so fast he almost chokes, the relief that washes through him unlike any feeling of elation he has ever felt in his life.

 

She loves it. She loves his heart.

He is hers, and she is his, and she loves his heart.

 

She leans forward and kisses him slowly, deliberately as she rocks her hips, the heat and slickness of her sex apparent against his cock as she slips her tongue into his mouth. He doesn’t know if it’s the relief, or the arousal, or the adrenaline rush, but this wave of pure emotion rushes through him and he just _needs her_. He moves his hips against hers, puts his hands on her waist and raises her up, aligns them, and slides her down onto him.

They both gasp as he fills her, and her back arches, her head tips back as she moves up and down his length a few times, coating him with her slick juices as she slowly rides him. Her body is hot and firm against him as she slowly picks up the pace, rising on her knees and taking him in further with each descent of her hips. Her lush, full tits are on display for him, nipples erect and with each downstroke her gorgeous flesh shakes, shimmies for him in his own personal erotic show, and Robin cannot stop himself from touching her as she moves over him. He cups her breasts, kneads them and plays with the heavy mounds, pressing them together and feeling them shake as she starts riding him in earnest.

 

Regina is fucking beautiful.

 

There is no other way to describe her.

 

Her thick black hair falls away from her face as she starts fucking him harder, _harder_ \- her head thrown back, chest thrust to him and back arched as she rides him faster, faster. Robin’s hands are busy, plucking and pinching her tight little nipples as she bounces, squeezing her mounds tightly one second then twisting her peaked buds as he counters the thrust of her hips with his own. She’s working hard over him, her smooth, toned thighs tight and flexing as she moves, his heart literally resting in the palm of her hand as she moves forward to kiss him - rocking her hips quickly as he hits her deep and she moans against his lips.

He’s a little bit awestruck, can’t quite come to terms with what is happening right now as she rides him, as she pants and tells him how good he feels inside of her, as she pulses her fingers against his heart in rhythm with her strokes along his cock. He moans as she moves over him, and he slides his fingers to her clit, lets his thumb hit her nub with each of her strokes, and she _Oooo’s_ over him at the contact, her breath hitching and hips swiveling as she speeds up a little more.

She’s so wet she’s coating his pelvis, her slick fluid smearing across both their thighs as she rides him, bracing one hand on his shoulder to keep her balance, breasts bouncing for him as she shivers her pleasure while he rubs firmly against her sensitive bud.

“Ready?” she gasps suddenly, stroking down onto him - over and over and over - in quick punctuated motions that knock her headboard loudly against the bedroom wall. He knows what they have to do, nods his agreement and increases the friction against her hot little clit as her tight channel squeezes him in her anticipation.

She leans back, snapping her hips toward his sharply as she slows, grinding… grinding…. grinding hard onto him, and he watches, completely trusting her as she brings his heart up, places a hot, open mouthed kiss to it that makes his mouth completely fucking jealous, before bringing the muscle to the front of his chest. There is a faint purple glow around her fingers as her magic surfaces, and she kisses his lips fiercely as she leans forward, jerks her hips and drives him deep as she shoves his heart back into him.

Robin wails with the pain, a loud, hoarse _Ahhhhhh!_ escaping his lungs, but she keeps kissing him hard, swallows his scream with her mouth and keeps fucking him as she rocks her hips, sliding down his cock over and over as she pulls her hand from his chest.

He breathes heavily, gasping and cringing as the pain subsides, and she stills her hips completely on him, strokes her hands all over him - across his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, then down to stroke his neck and shoulders as she whispers soothingly to him, tells him, “ _I know, I know,_ ” and “ _I’m sorry, baby,_ ” and “ _Love you so much,_ ” as she places sweet, soft kisses to his lips.

When he catches his breath, he starts kissing her back, wraps his arms around her waist and hugs her close, sitting up and rolling them so he is on top of her, can press his entire body to hers and kiss her swollen lips. She’s perfect. Fucking perfect. He loves her so, so much, and _finally_ he tells her, whispers against her lips, “I love you, Regina - would have my heart ripped out a thousand times to hear you say you love me one more time.”

She arches up and kisses first his top lip, then the bottom, sucks the edge of his chin and works slowly down his throat as he starts thrusting - giving her long, deep strokes as he curls his body over hers. She spreads her thighs wide for him, drawing her knees up a little as she meets his hips in counter rhythm. He slides wetly in and out of her, runs his fingers through her hair, and he cannot stop kissing her, can’t pull his tongue from her mouth as he makes love to her.

They are slow and steady as they rock against each other, building their pleasure up gradually, and Robin wishes this could last forever. She is so beautiful, and good, and true, and this is _right_ , and she is _everything_. He kisses her again, says her name and she opens her eyes, looking dreamy, looking soft beneath him, and he kisses her once more before he tells her he loves her again.

Her eyes are intense on him and she blinks quickly, licks her lips as he slides slowly in and out of her, and when he asks her if she’s alright, she nods quickly, kisses him and pulls his head down to her neck as she moves faster against him. Her arms grip tightly to his back, and he takes her cues, speeds up over her and thrusts faster, faster, as she moans and softly tells him _yes-yes_. He kisses her neck, her throat, her jaw line as he rocks faster into her, and faster still, until the slap of his skin against hers is enough to shake the bed and has her arching up, spreading her thighs even wider, one leg hitching up over his hip as he goes deep. He thrusts harder, one hand wrapped up under her shoulder, the other threaded in her silky hair, and her neck is arched, brows furrowed as he drives into her, her hard nipples brushing sensually against his chest with each thrust of his hips.

She’s so fucking tight - her sex is hot and swollen from their prolonged activities, and she’s incredibly wet - has been soaking him since they started and he is aching for release. He wants to come inside of her, wants to fill her up and make a new life - knows she’s not able, but wants to try anyway - wants to give her anything and everything she has ever wanted. His hips snap against hers and he begs her - “Can I fill you up babe? Can I come inside you?” she moans under him, pants sexy little _ah-ah-ah-ah’s_ with each thrust.  He sucks hot kisses into her neck, pleads, “Want to so bad - want you to have it, want you to feel it inside you and know how much I love you.” Regina rewards him with a high pitched gasp, her fingers pressing into his lower back as she arches, and he feels her start to flutter around him, and fuck, she’s close, and he’s close, and he’s not going to make it through another one of her intense orgasms.  

He brings his lips to hers, and she kisses him back passionately, tipping her chin up and tangling her tongue with his, stealing each other’s breaths as they rock harder, faster, as he flexes his thighs and drives deep into her. He drops one hand to swipe rapidly back and forth over her swollen clit, and she gasps again, her voice going up an octave as she pleads, _Yes - oh god - just like that - make me come_.

He can’t stop talking to her, can’t stop telling her _-love you so much, darling-_ and - _so fucking wet - so tight for me, babe,_ and _oh-my-god-Regina, you’re everything -_ and - when he asks her again, “Can I come inside you?” she begs him back, “Oh god - _mmmm_ \- yeah - _Oh, Robin_.”

Her clit throbs under his thumb, and her thighs and abs shake violently as her pleasure suddenly flies up, up, up, and she snaps her hips hard, belly pressing up against his as she arches sharply and comes apart for him, clenching and quivering hard around him as she cries out, asks him for _More! - More! - ahh!_ and Robin knows he done, he’s going to come right-fucking-now, but he gives her what he has left, thrusts fast and deep for her as she spasms and clenches on him, her chest breaking out in gooseflesh as her entire body shudders, and he can’t take it, he’s coming, his hips losing rhythm as he presses hard into her, buries his cock as deep as he can get, sliding them up the bed with the force of it, and he sprays hot, thick white jets of his come into her as she trembles and takes all of him, digs her nails into his back and gasps _Oh-oh-oh-god!_

He slows his thrusts - goes, slow... slow… deep... as he finishes, filling her up like he promised - and she clutches him to her tightly, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, thighs wide and tipped up to him, her face tucked into his neck. 

He shudders as he finally comes down, tries to pull up off her a little - knows he’s crushing her - but her grip is firm, and tight, and she rasps, “Not yet, please - not yet,” and he doesn’t know what it is about her saying that but his heart _hurts_ for her all of a sudden.

He does as she asks - stays on top of her, stays inside of her, but he turns his face to hers, has to see her eyes to understand what she’s trying to tell him. When he finally coaxes her head up from his neck, she’s crying and he - _fuck_ \- _oh fuck_ \- he panics - doesn’t know why she’s crying but that’s not - _that’s not at all how this is supposed to go_ \- and _fuck_.

He immediately pulls up and strokes his fingers into her hair, pushes the dark locks out of her eyes and asks quietly, frantically, “What is it? What’s wrong, darling?”

She shakes her head, leans up and kisses his lips softly, and he’s never, ever seen her so unguarded as she whispers, “I just, I never thought - after Daniel, I never thought I could be this happy.” Robin’s heart clenches with her admission.

He drops a soft kiss to her lips, strokes his fingers over her fine brows, kisses her again before he pulls back, tells her, “All I want is to make you happy, Regina - you are my _everything._ ”

Another tear runs from her dark eyes even as she smiles, and she turns her face away from him with her emotion. Protectiveness surges through him and Robin wants to throttle every single person who ever made her feel like she wasn’t deserving of this. He captures her lips again - kisses the tracks of her tears, kisses her cheekbones, the bridge of her nose, her sweet, soft lips.

As he showers her with kisses, with declarations of his love for her, promises of his undying loyalty, and a few teasing comments about her unreasonable sexual prowess, her tears cease, her smile grows until she is laughing softly beneath him, and when she brings her eyes back to his, she tells him again that she loves him.

  
When he asks to stay - to stay with her _forever_ \- she takes his wrist, pulls his arm up to her and presses a soft, lingering kiss against his tattoo before she says, “Okay, Thief.”

 

 


	17. The Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LANY - Ilysb  
> Taylor Swift - How You Get The Girl

 

 

Chapter Sixteen - The Epilogue 

  


He can’t resist, he needs to kiss her one more time before he has to share her company all evening. He tugs lightly on Regina’s gloved hand and it swings her to him, a little look of surprise on her pretty face as he steps in and presses his lips firmly to hers. She’s beautiful. _So_ beautiful. That she has chosen to spend time with him over all others is completely beyond his comprehension. He has no idea why he’s so lucky but he’s damn glad he lost the bet that earned him his tattoo.

Her lips are soft, full and warm against his, and she always goes all in, always gives him these perfect, deep kisses regardless of where they are, and he loves that - loves how she responds so enthusiastically to him. He slides his tongue into her open mouth, stroking it along hers in that way she likes and she moans against him, her satin covered fingers gripping his jacket at the elbows as she tugs him a little closer.

They part after a few softer, sweeter kisses amidst the noise of the small, cheering crowd that is composed of their close friends and family, their sons, and even a few old enemies. He touches his forehead to hers, completely wrapped up in her, and it is the most amazing thing - to hold Regina in her soft white dress, to devote himself to her and kiss her in front of everyone.

The mayhem that has plagued Storybrooke seems to evaporate as the days go by, and there is a wholesomeness to it that can only be attributed to the care and devotion of Regina, the _Good_ Queen. And it’s ironic, truly, that the happiness of the queen has changed the fate of the realm - that if only she’d been granted such peaceful reprieve earlier in life, things could have always been this way. But then, they wouldn’t have each other, so perhaps the suffering they endured was worth the pain after all.

 

Because now he is hers, and she is his, and everything is perfect.

 

Perfect, and whole, and good.

 

It is the fairytale ending she always deserved, and they live happily ever after, together and in love, for the rest of their many, many years.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers:  
> Not mine - if they were, they would do this stuff all the time.  
> As an avid fanfic reader, please understand that any similarities to other works are pure coincidence and absolutely not intended.


End file.
